tak Athenians, Seedntinntn ditt nine

| Frank Starr’s

 

 

RED-KNIFE, THE WYANDOTTE.

FRANK STARR & CO., 41 PLATT STREET, NEW YORK
Am. News 0o., 119 & 121 Nassan st., N.Y.

 

 

 
 
‘THE ARROW-MAKER OF THE MIAMIS,

BY EDWIN EMERSON,

x AvmHOR oF “ DUSKY DARRELL,” FS PHANTOM FLUNTER,” ETO.

NEW YORK

i al ‘Platt Street.

 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by _
FRANK STARR & CO.,,
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington,

(Wo, 115.)

 
RED-KNIFE, THE WYANDOTTE;

OR,

THE ARROW-MAKER OF THE MIAMIS.

CHAPTER I.
THE STRANGE CAPTIVE,

CrumPer’s STATION was one cf tose early pioneer posts,
which existed at a time long gone, when Keutucky, in conse-
quence of the many internecine collisions of unfriendly In-
diuwtribes, won the name by whicu it has since been memo-
rized, viz—‘ The Dark and Bloody Ground.” Like other
important posts.of that day, Crumper’s Station has escaped
the attention of the historian, except, indeed, we be consid-
ered such, for in recording the forthcoming events we merely
trace the almost obliterated line o7 a tradition, which, up to
this time, has remained unwritten. It was situated on the
Ohio river, at no’great distance from Fort Washington (now
Cincinnati), and many emigrants, coming down the river on
flat-boats, chose it for their destination and home. Twice,
prior to the time our story opens, it had been fallen upon by
large bodies of Indians, but the strength of its fortifications
and garrison, together with the skill and bravery of its de-
fenders, had saved it.

One golden October day, when all was quiet in and around

_ the fort, and few settlers were moving about, two men issued
_ from the interior of the inclosure and moved slowly down to
_the river-bank.

One of these was a young man of fine personal appearance,
with active, robust limbs, and easy, graceful carriage. His
features were well developed, and when at repose they gave
him a look of earnest thoughtfulness, not unmixed with stern-
ness; but when the lips parted in a smile, his pearly teeth

 
‘REDAKNIFE, THE WYANDOTTE ; OR,

seemed to ‘hagas a ray of sunshine over his countenance, giv-
‘ing it such a merry, jovial expression that one might think it
impossible for him to look serious. Ordinarily, his large dark
eyes wore a thoughtful, almost pensive, look, and moved from
one object to another with a languid, mechanical motion; but
there were times when they fairly sparkled and danced with
enthusiasm, excitement or mirth. In fine, the casual observer
would not be favorably impressed with Herbert Thurston’s
face. Invariably he would be set.down as a lazy, spiritless
fellow, possessing neither ambition nor energy enough to make _
his mark in this world. But a closer study, or a better ac-—
_ quaintance, showed how thoroughly one may be deceived by
the first impression, and revealed much that. at first escaped
notice. The inhabitants of Crumper’s Station would tell you
that Herbert Thurston was a man of determined will, energy
and spirit—bold asa lion in time of danger, but warm-hearted,
forgiving, and gentle as a woman in his manners when peace
held the mastery—ready to imperil his life for a friend or
throw it away entirely for those who were nearest and dearest
to his heart.

His companion was an Indian—a friendly Wyandotte, who
bore the name of Wapawah, or Red-Knife, and who, at the
timé of which we write, was the most daring wood-ranger
and skillful and successful scout in the services of this fort.
He was a young, athletic warrior, powerfully built, and as
quick as a cat in his movements, and was positively good-
looking in the face. He carried himself with graceful dig-
nity, and was as stoically silent as the rest of -his race, never
speaking except when he fvund it absolutely necessary, and
then expressing himself in the fewest possible words. Some”
years before, this young Indian had become an outcast from
his tribe for the great offense of treachery—or, in other words,
because he had taken pity on a beautiful girl-captive, and bad
set her free just in time to save her from death at the stake.
For this his tribe had driven him out in ignominy and scorn. He
had joined the whites, and was so well treated by them that
he soon learned to love his new friends better than his own —
‘people. Indeed, with the old sore of his tribal disgrace rank-
ling in his heart, he becathe a’ Wyandotte-hunter—a fierce hater
Ps ‘his race ; and,as the Shawnees were their allies, he hunted

 
 

them, also, with all that inappeasable vengeance which, to this
day, characterizes the red-man, whose honor has been aspersed
and whose life has been outlawed. Once on the trail, the
young chivf's whole nature seemed to change; from the plea- =
sant-faced Wapawah he changed to Red-Knife, the outcast
chief, and far and near his fame spread among the tribes,

These two men, as we have stated, left the fort and walked —
down to the river, Pausing on the bank, Wapawah folded _
lits arms over his broad chest and turned a look of silent in-
quiry upon his companion. Herbert Thurston hesitated a
moment, running his fingers through his. hair, and ee to
reflect. Then he said: e

_ “Wapawah, I have told you I desire to speak with you on ae
an important topic, and one that requires secrecy. You may
doubt the necessity of secresy, but nevertheless I wish you to
impart my suspicions and intentions to nobody. About two
weeks ago, you will remember, you returned to the fort after
a longer absence than usual, and told a story of a white man
you had seen in an Indian village.”

- The Wyandotte nodded assent.

“Was it one of the Shawnee towns where you saw him?”

“ No—Miami.”

“ Miami,” repeated Thurston, musingly. “ Is it situated on
the river of that name?”
eth

“Flow far above the Ohio?”

“Dat many mile,” replied Wapawah, holding up both hands
with every finger and thumb extended.

“Ten miles above the Ohio, and at least two days’ journey
to the mouth of the Miami,” muttered the white man. “It
isn’t a great distance, after all, and by pushing steadily on,
we would be able to reach the village on the third day after

setting out.”

The Indian was evidently puzzled by these remarks.’

“How old was the man you saw among the Miamis ?”

_asked Thurston.

“Not much old —hair leetle gray,” answered the Indiate

“You did not Jearn his name?” :

“No; meno talk to him. See him——dat’s ay

rit “Are you sure he was a captive ¢”

 
   
 
     
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

  
         
   
   
       
   
“THE WYANDOTTE ; (OR;

“Much sure. He was aslave, too. He work hard all day
makin’ arrows for braves.”
_ “Making arrows ?”

“Yes; make ’em for de whole tribe.”

“ Wapawah,” said Herbert, stepping nearer to his red com.
panion, “the minute you told that story, a fortnight since,
my suspicions were aroused. I believe the captive you speak
of is a man from Crumper's Station.”

The savage was silent, but all attention.

“TJ believe he is no other than Mr. Sedgewick,” added Her-

bert, with marked emphasis.

© Who he ?” asked Wapawah.

“Ah!I had forgotten you were never acquainted with
him. He was taken captive before you came to this post.
He was the father of Vinnie Sedgewick, who, you know, now
lives with her uncle. One year ago, rumors reached the gar-

rison here that a large body of Indians was about to fall

upon us, and scouts were sent out in every direction to watch
the movements ofthe enemy. Richard Sedgewick, being an
old frontiersman, and having many tines before acted in that

capacity, here volunteered his services as scout, and went

forth to discharge his duties as such. He did not go alone,
but took with him that rascally nephew of his, Dick Hamil-_
- ton, for what reason I can’t imagine. The next day after —
their departure, Hamilton returned alone, bearing the sad in-

: telligence of Richard Sedgewick’s fate, reporting that the lat-

~ ter had Been shot dead by a party of Indians in ambush, and
that he (Hamilton) had effected his escape by flight, and
repeatedly hiding in the tall bushes. J cannot explain why es
jt is so, but’ to this day, I have not been able to convince my-

 gelf that Mr. Sedgewick was really killed on that occasion.

fis companion could not know to a certainty whether he —
was killed or wounded, for he had immediately taken to his |
heels to’save his own life, and why isn’t it possible a the
man is still among the living ?” ;
Wapawab shook his head quickly. ;
“Must sure be dead—Injuns on war-path save no pale-faces ; ;
“may be he be alive—mustn’t hope.” :
~ You do-not deny, then, that it is possible? Even that is
something. But I brought you here to ask of you a favor,

 
 

‘THE ARROW-MAKER OF THE MIAMIS. = 18

‘Will you go with me to the Miami village on an errand of —
- mercy—to see this poor man, and attempt his rescue 2”

The Indian looked steadily at Thurston.»

“ You think it Aim ?”

“Tt may be; but even if it is not, will it not be a pleasure
to release any man from such a captivity ?”

The Indian nodded.

“Then you will go with me ?”

aves,”

“When ?”

“In two—t’ree days.”

_* So soon ?”

“ Sooner de better ; poor pale-face sad—berry sad ; s’pect
he got squaw ard little ones somewhere. Injuns mean to
him—nebber let him leave his wigwam all day. We better
go in t’ree days.”

“Good! Ever since you went away the last time I have
been waiting impatiently for your return, in order to ask your
advice and aid. From your description, I can not but believe
that the unfortunate prisoner is Richard Sedgewick, and with

such a belief, I could not forgive myself were I not to make

an effort in his behalf. I was sure you would not refuse me —
your valuable assistance. We will start, then, at the time you
propose. Don’t mention this to any one, for, if you do, it
will certainly reach the ear of the young lady, Vinnie, and may
awaken hopes that can not be gratified. Disclose the nature
of our expedition to nobody, but, if questioned, say that we
will explain when we return.”

“White brudder speaks well,” said Wapawah. “ Se
is with him !” ;
“Then the question is settled,” continued Thurston, fitg eyes
brightening with a touch of enthusiasm... “ We will do all in
‘eur power to liberate the white man, even though he be a
ranger, which I think he is not. Shall we go in’a canoe?” —

“ Best not,” replied the Indian. “De red men watch de
ribber'now—kill pale- faces i in boats. We be safest trabblin’ —
en land.” a
* “On land it shall be, then.”

__ “Mus’n’t forgit danger. Heap danier in the wood. ie i
be we nebber come back any more.”

 
RED-KNIFE, THE WYANDOTTE ; =

aT fally understand that we will be beset by dangers at
every turn, but the recollection of that shall not deter me,”

« Hist !” exclaimed the Wyandotte, at ts juncture, holding

up his hand. “ Somebody come dis way.”

= Thurston ceased speaking ‘and listened. The hum of voices
_ was-distinctly heard, mingled with the sound of approaching
footsteps.

“ Whoever this is, don’t mention the topic of our conversa-
tion,” said Thurston, in a low tone.

_* Red-Knife know what to do—he know what. his tongue
made for,” was the significant rejoinder. :

Just then a peal of merry laughter, like the jingling of sil-
ver bells, rippled through the air, and the next moment two

- forms emerged into view a few paces distant. They were
slowly approaching, and evidently engaged in light and plea-
sant conversation,

One of the forms was that of a young girl, rather slight of
figure, but faultlessly proportioned, and the embodiment of
grace. In feature, she could not conscientiously be pro-
nounced beautiful ; but there was a. certain something in her
soft blue eyes that made ample amends for all that was lack-
ing elsewhere. A luxuriant growth of auburn hair fell negli-

gently about her shoulders and voluptuous bosom, forming a
glittering frame for her calm, sweet face. She wore a broad-
brimmed hat pushed back from her head, and in one hand she —
carried a small basket well filled with wild flowers of many
kinds and colors.

The other form was that of a man, but.of a man of extra-
ordinary appearance. He was about twenty-one or two years
of age, and was rather below than above the average stature.
of men, though heavily-built and brawny. He was not as pre-

possessing as Apollo, nor withal as intelligent, but notwith-
standing that, he was a pretty good fellow in his way, as all
who knew him testified. ‘His hair was a light brown, long
‘and straight, parted in the middie and brushed smoothly back
‘behind his ears. He had large, dull blue eyes, and a habit of
staring open-mouthed at any and every person he met. A
slight down extending across his upper lip made that portion

f his face a shade darker than the rest. If this poor fellow

d frequently proved himself quite timid in trying moments, —

 

 

 
THE ARROW-MAKER OF THE MIAMIS,

and was the butt of much ridicule and many practical jokes,
among his frinds, he was, on the other hand, good-natured and —
. kind-hearted, as such persons are apt to be.

CHAP Dar Ta;
THE NYMPH AND THE CLOWN.

“Tr is Vinnie Sedgewick and Tony Crane,” said Thurston,
and as he spoke his eyes kindled as if by magic, and a bright
flush mounted to his temples.

“Yes, sir, it is Vinnie Sedgewick and Tony Crane,” nets
the girl, w ho had overheard the remark. ‘And what of it,
‘Mr. Thurston ?” she added, looking saucily up into his face,
as she and her companion paused in front of the two men.
“ Haven’t we the right to go where we please, or must we
bow to your imperial will ?”

“The latter, to be sure, Miss Vinnie.”

“You ain’t boss of we,” blustered Tony Crane, edging up
to the young lady, and giving Herbert a look of defiance. ;

“That you are not, and you dare not harm me while I am

rsh ance the protection of the valorous Mr. Crane,” said Vinnie, —

and her merry laughter rung out again, clear and rippling: as

a mountain-current gliding over its rocky bed. :
It was evident that Crane did not see the jest in this ex:

pression, for he drew himself up proudly, and frowned threat-

eningly at Herbert—which frown looked quite sickly in the
total absence of eyebrows. It was also evident that this sin-
gular character was in Jove with the maiden, and regarded :
Hlerbert in the light of a rival. :
“ But, perhaps we are intruding,” said the girl; “ and if so
it behooveth us to pass on. I believe Mr. Thurston and Wa-
pawah are hatching some scheme, and desire no audience.” —
“There, let me say, you are wrong,” returned the former,
smiling. ‘“ We came here to indulge in a little private con:
_ versation, it is true, but we have indulged in it from be,

 
  
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
     
 
      

)  RED-KNIFE, THE WYANDOTTE; OR, -

not tear yourself away on the conviction that your presence
is unpleasant to me, for I assure you it is exceedingly the re-
verse.”

“Tndeed !” cried the laughing nymph, with a coquettish
toss of her auburn tresses. “Are you not afraid to talk so
gallantly to me, when Tony Crane is here, growing more and
more jealous every moment.”

“Yam sure Tony will pardon me,” said Thurston, with a
mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Don’t be too sure,” muttered Crane, with an injured look.
“T ain’t the best natur’d pusson in existence, nohow, and
you've no right to talk to Vinnie in that style.”

“Then you have no such right,” declared the latter.

Crane colored to the roots of his hair.

“ain't no sich right,” he repeated, confusedly. ‘‘ Reckon
I goes with you more’n he does, don’t I ?”

“Tf go, it is not because you are invited, or even encour-

to keep a sober countenance. “Even to-day you. were not
- requested to accompany me in my search for flowers.”
: Tony brightened.
“J thought ’twar my duty to go with you to-day whether
I war axed or no, ’cause it wouldn’t be right, nor manly,
_ to let you go alone, when there’s so many dangers in the
woods.” :
“You went, then, to protect me?”

“Taw sakes! of course I did. Here I am, a hearty young

buck, strong as a lion and just as bold—”

your duty ?” demanded the girl, with pretended anger.

“How? Which?”

~ “Surely you have not forgotten, already?” she continued,
Tt has not been half an hour since you would have left me
at the mercy of a monstrous rattlesnake.’

“Why, why, my dear; you wrongs me, indeed you does ?”
xclaimed Tony, excitedly. “You furgits the snake turned
ut to be nothin’ more’n a runnin’ vine in the grass.”

“TI forget nothing. I remember you saw it first, and
shouted ‘rattlesnake /’ and then took to your heels with as-
tonishing agility. You did not know it was a vine until I

   

 

 

- aged to do so,” rejoined the girl, biting her lip in her. efforts,

“Tf you came to be my protector, why did you not do.

 
 
  

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

   
 

 

 

 

 

THE ARROW-MAKER OF THE MIAMIS,

made the discovery, and I suppose you would have been run- x a

ning yet if I had not called you back, and shown you your

mistake.”

“Good gracious! I hope you didn’t think I’s afeard?
Why, bless yer little gizzard, I was runnin’ after a stick or a
stone fur to kill the blamed thing.” :

“7 bat is very likely, as I remember there were a > eae
many sticks and stones near the supposed snake, and none in |
the direction you took in your flight.”

Tony looked like a fool now.. In face, he never looked
slike any thing else, unless it was a baboon, and people might
have been either jesting or prejudiced when they sometimes
observed that he bore a resemblance to the animal mentioned,
He could not reply to this last speech of Vinnie Sedgewick,
so he stammered, and coughed, and Jouked foolish, and was
inexpressibly angry because his rival was a witness of his
mortification. And, worst of all, a. stinging, torturing laugh
broke from the lips of his idol, and in a fit of desperation he
exclaimed : :

“If you don’t shet up I'll be dog-derned ef I don’t go away
and stay away! Tl go right off and git killed by the In-
juns, that’s what I'll go right off and do!”

“That would be a rash act, Tony, but I shall offer no ob-
jection, for I know you are willful,” said Vinnie.

“You git!” growled the injured lover.

“Let me tell you how to revenge yourself on her,” inter-
posed Herbert, gravely. ‘In two or three days Wapawah
and myself are going among the Indians, on a secret enter- —
prise, and you may go also if you wish. Miss Vinnie Sedge-
wick will be glad enough to see you when you come back,
He is at liberty to accompany us, is he not, Wapawah ?”

With a faint smile the Indian nodded assent.

It was on Crane’s tongue to inquire if there was much
danger in the enterprise, but reflecting, jusi in time, that such
@ question might be construed in a manner contrary to his:
desire, he wisely refrained, and asked, instead :

_ “ How do you know I wants to make one of you ?” oe

“Why, didn’t you say so? You spoke of going away to

revenge yourself on the lady, and I think it’s the ee ag 3

you can do. Iam sure you are not afraid.” es

  
     

| RED-ENIE, THE WYANDOTTE; OR,

   
 
 
 
    
  
  
   
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 

Td go away, and if Vinnie doesn’t urge me to stay I’ll keep
my Sead."
assured I shall not urge you to stay,” said Vinnie,

   

< eonlls:

: This surprised Crane, for he had expected her to change

her tone now. But, timorous as he was, he would have
risked almost any thing rather than be called a coward, so
he declared that he would go if he were killed a dozen times.

- “But you are not serious, Mr. Thurston ?” said Vinnie, in
alow tone. “ You are not really going among the Indians ee

“To be sure,” was the smiling rejoinder. “ This is no
joke by any means, but sober truth.”

“And why do you risk your life in this manner ?”

“ Any other argument would deter me sooner than that of
the risk incurred in the enterprise.”

“T doubt it not; but it is the part of a fool, rather than
of a brave man, to seek dangers unnecessarily.”

“TY admit all that, Vinnie, and much more if you like, but
I-do not. deem this contemplated journey unnecessary. I
think, indeed, you will say it is the wisest task 1 ever imposed

_ on myself, when you learn the nature of it.”

“You mean, then, to let me know the nature of it ?”.

Thurston laughed,

“Yes,” said he, ‘you are to be let into the secret of our
object in this undertaking—but not at present.”

“ And when, pray ?”

“When we return.”

“ Not until you return? T don’t want to know the secret
at all, if you can’t reveal it before it grows stale.”
_ “That remains to be seen.”

_ © How long will you be gone ?”
“A week, I suppose; probably longer.”

"The - -young man eyed his interrogator narrowly as he. ten-
dered this piece of information, and he felt a tremendous
throb beneath the bosom of his waistcoat as he saw her eye-
ids quiver and. droop. Bending his head ill his breath
futined her brow, he whispered softly in ee ears
Do you care; Vinnie ?”

"Care? What do you mean ?”

  

; “Nobody Hateas t say I am!” he replied, hotly. “T said

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
   
    

 
  

 

 

 

 

“Do you care if I stay away 80 aie 2 “Would. you care
if I should stay away forever ?” :
- “Oh! see that large flock of ducks!” cried a girl at that. es
moment, clapping her hands excitedly, and seeming totally ig-
norant of the fact that Herbert Thurston was speaking to her,

A flock of water-fowls was-flying low on the opposite side —
of the river. Tony Crane looked at them because she desired
it, but Herbert turned away with a look of disappointment.
He was vexed with himself, as well as with Vinnie Sedge-
wick. He knew she had heard him, and that her sudden in-
terest in the wild-ducks was an artifice to avoid answering his
question. But he was quite cheerful again in a few minutes,

“ Wapawab is leaving us,” he said, at length. “ Let us
follow him.”

As no objections were offered to this, the trio slowly fol-
lowed the Indian to the fort, Herbert carrying Vinnie’s basket
of flowers, and she chatting gayly to him, greatly to Tony’s
uneasiness. °

   
 
    
    
   
  
 
   
  
  
  
 
    
 

CHAPTER IE
A SNAKE IN THE GRASS.

Our friends were scarcely out of sight, when a man —
Climbed stealthily up the river bank, and stood erect on the ‘
very spot they had recently occupied. i

He was a young man, his age not exceeding ones
years. He possessed a figure of fine proportions and muscu-
lar development, nimble and wiry as that of a panther, and it —
was evident at a glance that the strength of a giant lurkedin
his brawny, massive limbs. Altogether he would have made —
a good model for a painter, There.was something wildly

picturesque in his dark, sunburnt face, and at this moment his —
eyes partook of ‘the tiger’s ferocity as they flashed and glittered —
under the overhanging masses of jet-black hair. His features
were coarse, though regular, and there was that in his heavy
jaws and the savage, sullen set of his lips that reminded you
of a wild beast, and conveyed the impression that it were

 
 
  
   
  

    
     
    
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
   
    
    
    
  
   
   
  
 

ter to give him ag wide a berth as possible on, all ocea-

ions.

_ Undoubtedly he had been concealed under the bank while
_the group of four were standing upon it, for now he stared in
the direction taken by the little party with a look of fierce | “

malevolence, e* j

“So that is your game, is it?” he hissed, his sinewy fingers ’
working convulsively. “By the Lord, Herbert Thurston, if

you want to cross my path without my knowledge you must

wake up before day. [ma rascal, am I? Curse you! that

_ polished tongue would not have dared to utter that word
_ knowing that I was within hearing. But I heard it, and you —
shall rue it, or my name isn’t Dick Hamilton.”

He ceased speaking and strode backward and forward like a
chained animal, his hat in one hand, his gun in the other, and
his long black hair disordered and tangled. At length he

i stood still again. With a fierce imprecation he struck the
empty air with his huge fist, and then exclaimed :

-“J would not have had that suspicion enter his confounded
head for the world! JZ have never believed uncle Richard
dead, bat until this hour I thought I was the only one who i
had a doubt on that point. I saw the Indians capture the old

man and carry him away, instead of killing him as I reported,

“and that is why [ have always thought of him as a captive in
one of the Indian towns. Where Thurston got the impres-

sion I cannot imagine, but somehow Wapawah’s story about

the white arrow-maker of the Miamis has struck him just ag

it struck me. He, also, has a suspicion that the man is no

other than Richard Sedgewick, held in durance vile as a pri- é é

--goner and_a slave, by the red-skins.” as:

- Dick Hamilton leaned on his gun, and looked thoughtfully

- into its dark muzzle. His broad chest rose and fell with the Bee
storm of passion that raged within, and his small, midnight

orbs glittered like those of a serpent.

“So he and Wapawah intend rescuing the supposed Mr.

Sedgewick ? Tll see whether they door, not: Curse them!

Til take a hand in this game, and if my cunning and physical
strength combined cannot get the upper hand of them I de-

serve to lose the girl. If they should succeed in their undertak-
ing—or, whether they succeed or not—the affair will be spoken

  

 

 

 

 

     
   

 
 
of as Thurston’s disinterested efforts in Mr. Sedgewick’s beha

- Bab! they can’t deceive me. I know a thing or two. Uncle
Richard used to say that nobody was good enough for his
little Vinnie but Herbert Thurston, and that he should have
her. But since uncle Richard is gone, my father. is Miss —
Vinnie’s guardian, and by thunder! she must do just as he
says. He hasn’t much love for the Thurstons, and he’ll —
never consent to aunion between Herbert and the girl—never | _
No wonder the wretch wants to get the old man, to help him

through the mire, since he can’t have the girl. while her —

father’s supposed to be dead. By all the fiends! if my uncle
lives he shall not be released from his captivity! Cousin _
Vinnie must and shall be my wife! My parents will it so,
but her father would rather see her dead than a bride of mine.
Young man, beware!” he added, savagely, shaking his fist at
his invisible rival; “ you cannot cross my path and live. So
surely ag the sun alittle above us, my vengeance will overtake —
and thwart you!” i
With this he donned his hat, slung his gun across his Hohe
der and strode away toward the fort. His eyes were upon
the ground; his mind was absorbed in thought, and he saw
notiing—heard nothing—remembered nothing, except that one —
other beside himself doubted that his uncle was dead, and that
the latter's resurrection would be his own defeat. *:
“TJ, also, will go, on a journey to the Indian towns,” he
muttered, ‘We'll See who wins. We'll see—we’ll see!”
He had taken no more than twenty steps after leaving the
river-bank, when he stumbled over something and came near
falling. With an oath he looked down to see what was lying

in his way. At the same instant a hoarse, croaking voice—

more resembling that of a frog” than a human being—cried _
out, angrily :

“ Leave mé alone, accursed wretch! T'll teach you to kick
a fellow in that manner, when he’s asleep. Take yourself
off, you villain, or Vil break every bone in your body !”

A puny little figure gathered itself up from the ground,
where it lad been lying asleep, with its head pillowed on the S
root of a tree. As it stood erect it was scarcely four feet in

 
% hori, ity was an ugly little dwarf that rose up and con-
fronted the young giant, Dick Hamilton—as ugly a little
dwarf as. one would care to meet with, whose ave might
have been anywhere between forty and sixty. His name
was Crispin Quiggs, and that was about all that was known
of him by the people of Crumper’s Station. He had made
his appearance there a few months prior to the opening of
our story, and none knew whence he came, or why. He was
a lazy, worthless fellow, sleeping half the time, and the other
half drinking whisky, as the honest toilers frequently remark-

ed to each other. And, indeed, he did drink a vast quantity
of liquor, though he never appeared so much under its influ-

ence that he was unable to take care of himself; and no-
body in the settlement slept nearly as much as he. None
_knew aught of bis past life, and the few who cared to inquire
into it, were made none the wiser by the answers they re-
ceived.

‘This waz the person over whom Dick Hamilton itaieisied
in his blind, heedless walk, and when the young man turned
round and saw who it was that had so nearly tripped him up,
he glared at him like a wolf.

“Tvs you, is it, you little imp?” he growled, contemp-

uously looking down on the little man, much as a huge

bull-dog would look down on a poodle that had barked at
him.

“ Yes, it’s me,” said the dwarf, in his harsh, croaking voice ;
“and I think things are coming to a devilish nice pass when
a must submit to kicks and cuffs that are unprovoked. Take
yourself off, sir, and leave me alone. I have a right to sleep
as much as 1 like, and as =e as I am peaceful you haven't
the least right to molest me.”

Dick Hamilton’s lip curled, and he was about to turn
away without deigning a reply, when a sudden idea struck
- him and rooted him to the spot. He looked again at the
dwarf, keenly and narrowly, as if to read such of his charac-
ter as he was not-acquainted with. Then, with a patrouiz-
ing air, he stepped forward and said :

 

 
 

THD ARROW-MAK R or THE ‘MAIMIS. ;

fe atc 1 beg your ee for what I have 6 Bane coe
think I did it purposely ; you mistake ; it was Panel aes
dental.”

Crispin Quiggs icoked astonished.

“You are mocking me,” he said.

“ J was never more serious, I assure you.” g

“ Pray, are you blind, that you should kick me accident-
ally in broad daylight ?” 24

“No; but I did not see you, nevertheless, I was ina
brown study, and sav nothing. Indeed, my good fellow,
the act was not. intentional. I should never have known
that you were in the vicinity if I hadn’t fallen over you”

The villain paused to note the effect of his words on —
Quiggs, and then, after some hesitation, resumed : :

“T have no ill- ‘will for you, my friend, and, to prove it, q
ask the pleasure of doing you a kindness.”

“Of doing me a kindness !” echoed Quiggs, ane

“ Certainly,” said the other, prompily.

“ You'll do me a kindness by telling me what you mean,”

Dick leaned on his gun, as was his fashion when standing, —
and gazed steadily at the parchment-colored, upturned face

of tbe little old man that stood before him, He had never
before exchanged sy many words with the strange being, and —
he now saw in him something he had not previously. ob-

served, viz. : a demon that no one would be safe in rousing.

“Would you like to earn some muney ?” he whispered.

The dwarf’s eyes twinkled avariciously.

“ Would 12” he answered. “Try me, and see.’

“Bravo! youre my man. In case you receive a goodly
sum I suppose you will not be over ‘choice us to how it is”
earned 2”

“What do you mean ?”

“That you will have no conscientious scruples about per--
forming what some might term an exceptionable piece of
work ?”

The old man looked up at his companion, and smiled.

“That is your business, not mine,” be chuckled, with a—
leer. “If the work is very unbecoming, the fault lies with
you. ‘ I am only to be told what you want 0 me to do, and the
speney is earned, ae it is murder—”

 
   
     
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
     
    
   
   
   
    
    
   
   
     
      
       

= WYANDOTTE ; OR,

 
 

Dick Hamilton ae a violent start, and glanced uneasily
round. The dwarf indulged in a hideous grin.

“Jf it is murder—” he repeated, calmly, and paused again,
Well, if it is murder ?” whispered Dick, anxiously.

_ “You have only to tell me whose mortal coil you would
- like to see shuffled off,’ was the quiet rejoinder.

esush)” whispered Dick, with another searching glance
- around,

“Bah! you are weak-hearted,” said Crispin Quiggs, look-
ing up at his companion, contemptuously.

“Not so,” returned the other, in as steady a voice as he
could command, “ but I would not have any one hear us
talking about this for all the world.. Youre my man, sir;
do you hear? Youre my man. I am sure you will dis-
charge your duty. faithfully.”

Crispin Quiggs rubbed his hands together nottly, as he
asked:

“How dod know you have gold with which to pay me ?”
_ Hamilton. thrust bis hand into the breast of his hunting-
shirt, and drew forth a small, but well-filled leathern bag,
which he triumphantly beld up to view. Tie dwarf held
out his hand to take it. Hamilton quickly returned it to its
hiding- place,

“ When you have earned it,” said he, “ it is yours.” -

“Tell me, then, what you would have me do?”

Whereupon followed a long and earnest conversation be-
tween the two villains. They stood there at least an hour,
talking, and at the end of that time Crispin Quiggs looked up,
and remarked :

“J always supposed you were a villain, Dick Hamilton—
now I know it. Ha, ha! But hear me, sir; you-could not
have procured a better companion for this business than H ts

“Why not?”

«JT will tell you soon enough,” was the significant rejoin-
der.

 

 

 

  

 
   
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
    
     
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
       
     

‘THE ARROW-MAKER OF THE MTA

 

CHAP TE REY.

THE CAMP IN THE WOODS,

 

A uirTte party of hunters, three in number, had just
crossed the Ohio river, at the a where the Miami flows
into it.

Night was closing in, and the party paused on reaching
the Ohio bank of the stream, and went into camp. In a few
minutes a cheerful fire was gleaming through the darkness of
the forest, making restless and gigantic shadows among the
trees, and lighting the faces of the three adventurers with a
bright reddish glare, as they sat around if and smoked their
pipes. They had chosen for their camp the point in the angle
of the two rivers above mentioned. It was a dull, starless
night, but scarcely less calm than gloomy. Not a breath of
air was stirring, and the slightest noise could be heard at an —
incredibly long distance.

The reader must have conjectured that the adventurers re-
_ ferred to were no others than our friends, Herbert Thurston,
Tony Crane and Wapawah, the Wyandotte. ;

They had been out two days, and a part of the third was ¢ —
to be spent in journeying up the Miami, before their destina-
tion, the Indian town, would be reached. Thus far, no inci-—
dent worthy of record had transpired, but now they were in
the very heart of the Indian country, and they were all aware —
that their lives were in imminent danger every minute they
tarried there.

“ We are even fortunate in reaching this point unmolested,
and without observing signs of red-skins,” remarked Herbert,

~ “Are we not, Wapawah ?” ;
_ The Indian nodded his head. Then, after smoking a while’ E
in silence, he said:
“ Much danger here’ bouts—great much danger. Not stay
if you don’t want. Wapawah no fear.”
“T started with the expectation of encountering innumer-
able dangers,” said Herbert, calmly, “and I cannot consent

 

 

 

 

 
.

RED-KNIFE, THE WYANDOTTE; OR,

urn until I have learned something about the arrow-
maker.”

“Good!” grunted the savage; “talk well; make good

arrior ; kill many enemies when the fight come.”

“Ym blowed if I ain’t gittin’ tired of this business,” as-
serted Tony Crane, glancing uneasily at the gloomy forest,
-and then at the dark, rolling water that flowed by on two
sides. ‘“Derned if a feller knows what minute he’s goin’ to
git the hull top of his head sliced off. It’s a imposition—
that’s what ’tis.”

“What's the matter with you, Tony?” asked Thurston,
smiling.

_ “Matter enough,” was the reply. “I’m sick-—awful sick !
This sort of life don’t agree with my constitution.”

“Perhaps you had better turn hack, and go home ?”

“Eh? Go home alone?”

“To be sure. You are not afraid, I hope ?”

“Tn course not; sartinly not; good Lord, no! Me afeerd!
Yer -bain’t gune crazy, has yer, Thurston 2” ;

“Not to my knowledge. But, if you are not afraid, why
do you object to going home alone ?”

Cause, you see—that is, ycu see—I-don’t want to go
home alone, and leave you and the chief in this dangerous
place. T ain’t sich a coward as that. The fact is, ’m goin’
fur to stick to yer through thick and thin, or perish in the
tempt.”

Tony mentally flattered ayensall that he had skillfully es-
- eaped cominitting his reputation as a gentleman of undoubted
courage ; but when he saw his companion clap his hands upon
his sides and fairly roar with laughter, a suspicion that he was
suspected began to dawn on his mind. He held a dignified
silence, however, and waited for the other’s mirth to subside.

But Wapawah did not seem disposed to wait. Ag the loud
peal. of laughter rung with fearful distinctness through the
forest aisles, he grasped the young man’s arm and exclaimed :

“Hush! Too much loud. Injuns hear,”

The source of this warning was sufficient to prove its
worth, and Herbert checked his mirth.
iA Bo- you want to bring a bull raft of red-skins down onto

rewled Tony, with an angry look, “Hain’t yer got

 
 

‘THE ARROY- AKER 0 THE MIAMIS, a

no more sense nor that? You're a purty-lookin’ chap to be
cuttin’ a shine round Vinnie Sedge wick—yow air !”

“J fear you are laboring under a delusion, my friend,”
said Herbert, biting his lips to keep a sober countenance.
«“ You caunot think I would be go foolish as to aspire for Miss
Sedzewick’s hand, while you are paying your _addre:ses to
her? I might as LO PERE: attempt to change the current of
the Ohio.”

Crane was immediately in good-humor. Crossing his legs
under him after the approved Turkish fashion, he assumed a
very lofty air, and looked condescendingly at Herbert.

“Yer candor pleases me, Thurston; indeed it do. Yer
gives up the race like a sensible chap. Vinnie’s a scorchin’
nice gal, and I hain’t no doubt she'll make a good wife.
Reckon she ain’t much at hoein’ corn, and the like, but? yer’s
what'll break herin. ‘Think a heap sight of her, don’t yer,
Thurston ?”

“How ean you ask, Tony ?”

Tony shock his head sadly.

“J pities you, Thurston, but yer knows as well as I docs
that we can’t all have the same gal. Good Lord! what's the
matter ?” .

This last exclamation was addressed to the Wyandotte,
who, with body inclined, and one finger ‘uplifted, seemed lis-
tening intently. :

The two whites ceased speaking, and looked at him. Tony
glanced timidly toward the point on which the Indian’s gaze —
was riveted, and crept closer to Herbert, at the same time _
clapping his hand on his head, and beginning to feel a stronger —
attachment to his scalp than he had ever felt before. Her-
bert, with a vague sense of danger, swept a searching glance
around and began to finger the lock of his rifle.

“ What is it Wapawah? What do you hear ?”

“Zisten !? admonished the Indian,

He listened, and in a moment heard a faint rustling cide
at hand. Silence followed almost instantly, and all continued
to- listen for a repetition of the sound. It soon came, soft
but distinct, like that of a person moving with stealthy tread
through bushes and brushwood. In a few seconds a shadowy
form came into view a few yards distant, and stood stock

 
s _-RED-KNIF, THE WYANDOTTE; OR,

still eorntertly surveying, at its leisure, the lite group round

the fire. In shape the figure was like that of a man, or,
‘rather, a boy, for tt was short and stumpy, and ungainly. It
was evidently a human being, and although he did not look
like a savage, yet he was rezarded as an enemy, nevertheless ;
and Herbert, who was of this manner of thinking, had no
sooner observed that the Jittle stranger was playing the part
of a spy, than he coolly lifted his gun to his shoulder, and
took deliberate aim at the shadowy figure.

“ Whoever you are, I shall not give you a minute to take
yourself out of sight !” he cried, sternly.

The words had scarcely passed his lips when the figure
vanished in the darkness as suddenly as it had appeared, sere:
ing back a clear, mocking laugh as it retreated |

CHAPTER ¥.
AN EXCHANGE OF SIGNALS.

Warawan sprung nimbly to his feet, and whipped out a
‘knife that flashed ominously in the firelight.

“ What are you going to.do ?” asked Herbert,

“ Goin’ to foller de snake; goin’ to see who he is; kill
him, maybe,” was the hurried reply. “ You git back in de

shadows; Jie close to ground, and be still; wait till I come
back; be back soon. Let fire burn.”

ith this he glided away as noiselessly as a serpent, hig
‘head bent almost ona level with his knees, and the knife
still clutched tightly in his hand. The darkness swallowed
him up at the exact point the little prowler had appeared and
disappeared.

In obedience to the Indian's injunction, Herbert and Tony
“put up their pipes and crept back into the shadows, where
the light from the fire could not reach them. Tere, hugging
the ground as closely as possible, they lay perfectly quiet, aud
awaited the return of their dusky friend.

Things is beginniu’ to look squally, ain’t they, Thurston ?”

 
whispered Crane, tgs to be certain that his ‘companio S
had not left his side. ;

“Very,” replied Herbert, briefly.

“Liable to git knocked on the head, ain’t we ?” continued
Crane, his teeth chattering in spite of himself.

“Why, certainly, if we are not quiet.”

“That’s wha—what I thought. I wonder if the red- skin
is goin’ fur to kill anybody ?”

“Probably ; but we must stop talking, Tony, or in all like-
Jibhood we will be overheard by some prowling enemy.”

“Jest what I was ‘bout to remark,” said Tony, nervously.
“T s’pose you think thar’s enemies all around us ?”

“YT fear as much,” returned Herbert. “ Atany rate, we can
not but deem ourselves in great danger. The figure ‘that ap-
peared to us within the moment must have been that of an
enemy, though I’m of the opinion that it was not that of an
Indian.”

“ Yer doesn’t mean a white enemy ?”

“There are many such in this region.”

“See yer, Thurston,” said Tony, in a very solemn witigie
“ ef I gits killed to- ae tell mother as how I died in a noble
cause, and tell Vinnie I’ll wait fur her in heaving, and Sam.
Ragsap kin have my best boots and nas and my clothes
‘kin be made over fur brother Felix.”

It was certainly no time to give way to mirth, but despite
the serious feelings that filled his breast, Herbert could not —
help smiling at Tony’s words and the manner in which he ut-
tered them. But the impenetrable gloom hid this silent de- —
monstration of the amusement he felt, and its object eee
none the wiser. x

“Pshaw! you are foolish, Tony,” he said, with assumed
gravity. “ You are not going to be killed.”

“Thar’s no tellin’, young man,” returned the other, with
increased solemnity. “I hain’t skeercely a doubt that Dike
kick the bucket afore mornin’, but you know me well enough —
to bet yer bottom shiner Pll es game— OhlLord! Ym shot
—Im shot! I didn’t expect it so soon, Oh, Lord! Oe 3
Lord !” ee

The loud spang of a rifle near by had awakened the forest
echoes while Tony was speaking, and caused him to give ut-

 
terance to othe pieulati un recorded. The bullet from the ‘ee

visible gun went plowing through the bushes in which they

were concealed, and seemed to come from the opposite side of —

the fire,

_ “Ym shot!” screamed Crane, writhing like one in mortal
‘pain, “Zelp/ Murver! FIRE! Tell Vinnie—tell—tell
_ Sam Ragsap and brother Felix—”

“Fool! Idiot! cried Thurston, in a hunts whisper,
clapping his hand over the mouth of the terrified man, and
shaking him with a will, Cease your infernal howling, you
cowardly dog, or by heavens J’ shoot you! You are not
hurt. That ball passed two feet above our heads.” ;

Crane left: off struggling, and lay perfeetly quiet, and ag
he made no attempt to scream again, Herbert released him.

But his teeth chattered as though he were suddenly stricken —

S with ague, and as soon as he could speak he asked;
- “ Are—are—you sure J ain’t killed ?”

“ You have not received the slightest injury. You are a

-eowardly rascal—a chicken-hearted fool!”
“YT wonder who fired that shot ?” said Crane, not caring to
argue the matter with his enraged companion.
“And here you: were declaring you would die game, if you
had to die, and the very next instant—”
“Did you see the chap as done that ’ere deed?” again in-
terposed Tony, by no means willing to listen to such én-
_comiums, and pretending to hear nothing Herbert said.
At this, Herbert’s anger fled and he was forced to staile
again,
ee NO replied, “I haven’t seen the person, nor have I
heard a sound from him except the discharge of his gun. TI

‘suppose he’s concealed on the other side of the fire, unless he

fled after shooting at us, which is very likely.”

“He must have had the eyes of a cat, to see us here,”

“He did not see us; he merely knew we were here—prob-
~ ably saw.us hide. Or, maybe he only suspicioned we were
here, arid fired that shot as an experiment. In such a case he
might have gone off satisfied but for your cowardly howl-
ing.” aa

"Tony could nat frame a suitable answer to this slanderous

vation, so he prudently held.his tongue.
ei % 3 . >

Me

 
a woods in that same crouching, stealthy: manner in wnicke he
had entered il, but on reaching the fire he straightened up —
and glanced around. ‘Mae two whites immediately came outs
of their concealment and joined bim.

“ What news, Wapawah ?’ Herbert inquired.

“Not much,” replied the suvage, still looking keenly around,
as if he expected to see somebody else.

“You followed the person that was scouting noun our
camp?”

The Wyandotte nodded an affirmative reply.

“ And saw him again ?”

~The Wyandotte nodded again.

Herbert glanced suspiciously at the long, glittering knife,
which Wapawah still carried in his hands. The latter, divin- _
ing his thoughts, shook his head and replied: :

“No—not harm him; thought best let him alone. He
white man from Crumper’s Station.”

“From Crumper’s Station ?”

“Yes, See him often dere.”

~“ Who is he?”

“ De little man; de little, cts man, wid de ~— legs
de long arms. De dwarf.”

“What! you don’t mean Crispin Quiggs’?”

“Yes; he de man.”

“ How came he here, I should like to know ? ny

“ He not alone.”

“Not alone? ‘Who is with him ?”

“De young giant-—de Swaying Pine—much strong.”

“You mean Dick Hamilton ?”

The Indian signified assent. Herbert was amazed,

“ What can be his object in coming here?’ he muttered ;
“and why is he in company with Crispin Quiggs? I never
saw them speak to each other, though I’ve seen them meet a
hundred times.” ‘ 2

“ Wapawah follered de snake,” said the ‘pitleae toa"
camp-fire over dere in a gully. Hamilton was dere; de dwarf .
Jined him; Wapawah kept in the dark; watched ’em till dey’
roll aehacives i in blankets and went as ; den ake Ae ae

“Do you think any are following us?”

*

 
MED-KNIFE, THE WYANDOTTE ; OR,

pad ‘ © - = %
Maybe so; maybe not. No tell.” Then, lodMing alter-
nately at his white friends, the Indian inquired, with his cus-_
tomary abruptness: “ Somebody shoot off a gun here. Who
done it?” ow /

_ Tony looked iffexpressibly embarrassed, and tried to change
thre subject. But Herbert promptly explained that the author
of the shot had not been seen; that they were evidently the
‘parties fired at, though the ball had not come within two
feet of them; and that it was his belief the marksman was
still hidden somewhere in the vicinity. Wapawah then gave
Tony a piercing look, and asked why he had raised such a
loud cry. Tony replied that at first he had thought Thurs-
ton was shot, and could not repress his grief ! :

At this juncture they all heard a deep sound coming up
_ from the river—a sound like the croaking of a bull-frog.

None but Wapawah heeded the sound. He started per-
ceptibly agit fell upon his ear, and a change swept over his
stony features like a fleeting ray of sunshine. He said
nothing, but with a motion of his hand, as-an injunction of
silence to the others, he inclined his body and seemed to listen,
The croak cf the bull- frog came. again, as hoarse, and deep,

and lugubrious as before. Then he straightened up, and it
could be seen that his small black eyes were twinkling quite
merrily. Placing his open hands on each side of his mouth,

as if to direct his voice properly, he sent forth a sound which
was such an exact imitation of the croak from the river, that,
but for their positive knowledge to the contrary, Herbert and
Tony could have sworn it proceeded from the same source !

“What you mean by that?” drawled Tony.

Before an answer could be given to -this inquiry, a soft
footstep was heard near by as of some one approaching.

‘Then a clump’of bushes was parted by invisible hands, and
the form of a man stepped forth into the firelight, and stood
erect before the trio. He was a white man, too, or, rather,
belonged to the race of white men; for his skin was turned
as brown as a nut, and there was little show of civilization in
the character of his dress. Imagine a man of great physical .
beauty and Samsonian proportions, clad in the ordinary buck-
skin costume of the Kentucky ranger, and armed with the in-—
Soe neble hunting-knife and flint-lock rifle—with eae

 
“and fearlessness—with forehead concealed to the sate eye-
‘brows by a skin-cap that fits his head closely, and with masses —
of unkempt hair brushing his shoulders. Imagine all this,
and you have a dim portraiture of the new-comer, as he stood
- confessed in the bright glare of the fire, coolly surveying each
member of our little party.

CHAPTER VI.

A MEETING OF OLD FRIENDS,

“FHEiio, chief! How are you, cold kumrid? said the
ranger, in a rough but good-natured voice, extending a huge
brown hand to theeWyandotte. “ Yer feito me, I reckon ??
_ Wapawah seized the proffered hand and shook it heartily, —
with a gleam of pleasurable recognition in his face.

“Know Kidd always,” he said; “ know him signal, even. -
Heard de frog croak, and knowed it was Kidd. Make Wa-

pawah feel good. Much glad to see white brother.”

“ Ruther guess you are, chief. Wouldn’t be natur’l if you
warn’t glad to see the best friend you ever had. Knowed my |
signal, €h? Course you did; else you wouldn’t ’a’ answered

if so prompt-like, jist as you used to. I knowed you'd recog-

nize it, so I thought I'd give you a little s’prise. But what
sort of an expedition are youon now? Didn’texpect to run —
afoul of you in these parts—mold me into buck-shot ef I did.
Who's these chaps you've got in tow ?”
The eccentric ranger turned his gaze upon the Wyandotte’s ©
_ friends, and regarded them with cool curiosity.

“J am Herbert Thurston, from Crumper’s Station,” said
the young man, seizing the rough hand that was held out to
him.

“Good ’nough handle fur anybody, and I'll wager my: ha’
you ain’t the aes as’ll tarn tail on red-skins,” ee

“Thank you.”

“My handle’s Kirby Kidd,” continued the man, in -his deep

: ston voice, “and Fort eee oe is my slap: pace

 
present. I’m scout, ranger and Injun-fighter, all at the
me time. Me and the chief, hyur, used to tramp the woods”
together, and do all our scoutin’ side by side, but the forts
- got us separated somehow or other, and we hardly ever come
together now. Reckon the red-sking hain’t forgot the time
‘We outwilted the cusses as war’ goin’ to string up Russell
Trafford, several years ago ?”
_ Phe Wyandotte smiled and grunted.

“ Hain’t heerd from Russell lately, I s’pose ?”

“ Free, four days ago,” replied the warrior.

“No! What news ?”

© Him well—squaw well—got lots papooses.”

“Good! May they live forever. But who is this beaver
you've got hyur? A stray ’un you've picked up ?”

“Pm Tony Crane, from Crumper’s,” ‘said that worthy, hesi-
tatingly, seeing that he was expected to speak for himself,

Kirby Kidd looked at Tony a long time, with a roguish
twinkle in his eyes; then there was an upward twitching. at
the corners of his bearded mouth, and at last his features re-
laxed into a prodigious grin, full et mischief and drollery. |

“What's the matter,” demanded Tony, angrily.

“Yer name’s Crane, I billeve.t 2” said the TAHgeS

“ve already told you so.’

“ Are you afeerd of Injuns ?”

E “ Hain’t aféerd of nothing,” was the haughty rejoinder.

“But you don’t like to be shot at in the dark, I take it,”
continued the old scout, significantly.

_ “ What d’ yer mean, I should like to know ?”

“TI mean, you’re capable .of getting skeert so powerful
bad at times, that you think you’re shot plum’ center, and set
up a caterwaul loud ’nough to wake the dead.”

_ Tony reddened to the roots of his yellowish hair.
“Tt were you, then, as fired that ’ere shot?” he muttered.

Kirby Kidd Haghed quietly. :

“ Wagh! wagh! ’twas a powerful scar’ T give you,” he
GiGkled ; “but ef I'd thought you'd raise sich a hubbub I
wouldn’t ’a’ fired. Calc’late this beaver ain’t of much sarvice

o you?” he added, turning to Thurston and Wapawah.
rbert replied that they had brought Tony merely to cure
of lis cowardice, if such a thing could be done, by in- |

 
  

  

troducing him to a series of casper and Tony, on oe
this, was so exasperated that he mentally swore eternal en-
mity to the whole party, and began to think they were con-
spiring against him, and that all his cunning and prowess
must be brought into requisition to defeat them! :

“ Did you overtake the little imp you follered a few minutes
ago ?” inquired the scout, addressing Wapawah.

The latter replied in the affirmative, and briefly related how
he had tracked the dwarf to his camping-place in a gully hard
by, where he had a companion in waiting ; and he further-
more informed his old friend that the dwarf and his com-
panion were from Crumper’s Station.

“Don’t keer a cuss whar’ they’re from,” said Kidd, shak-

_ing his head ; “ they’re a pair of sneakin’ rascals, taat’s what
they are, and I wouldn’t trust either one of ’em out of my
sight. The devil’s in ’em; I knowed that as soon as I see’d
em. Why, I’ve been watchin’ them reptiles ever.since long —
afore dark, and mold me into buck-shot! I soon found out

that they were watchin’ you like a couple of wolves, I
heern a part of a conversation between ’em, too, and the big
feller, he swore by the Lord he’d upset Herbert Thurston’s

“plans, ef be had to kill Herbert Thurston and somebody else
besides. Did you say that war your name, youngster ?”

“Tt is”? was the reply, with a look of perplexity’; “but I
am at a loss to know why Dick Hamilton should use it in this.
manner. I never crossed his path in my life, to. my knowl-
edge, and he must have a mistaken idea of the nature of my
plans if he-wishes to upset them.” This with a knowing |
look at Wapawah.

The Indian sbook his head,

“ Maybe he hide like snake in de grass—maybe he hear what
we talk ’bout udder day.”

“Surely, surely, he could not wish to frustrate the plans I
was laying before you. On the contrary, one might think he-
would be overjoyed, and would offer me his assistance, instead —

of suddenly becoming my enemy, and wishing to kill me.”

Wapawah made no answer to this, but shook his head
again, and looked thoughtfully into the fire, ;
Tt was now decided that Kirby Kidd should become one of ;
the ae ‘until its purpose was ses and on ee

 
  
 
  

  
  
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
   
illingness to do so, he was at once let into the secret

of their object in journeying thitherward. When he had

-Jistened to the explanation from beginning to end, as it was

briefly and hurriedly related to him, he turned upon Herbert
a look of blended admiration and amusement.

“ Does you often go out on sich a wild-goose chase,as this ”
he asked, with a smile.

“T hope it will prove infinitely better than a wild-goose
chase,” replied Herbert, with a responsive smile. ;

“T hope so, too, youngster, though smash me ef ’tain’t ten
to one the captive Il turn ant to be somebody you never.
heern tell of. You desarve to meet with the best of success,
howsomever, ’cause you’re grit to the backbone. And that
cuss, as you call Dick Hamilton, wants to upset a plan that

have been formed to save his own uncle? ‘That's a little the

quarest thing I ever heern tell of.”
A hurried. consultation was now held between the old .
ranger and Wapawah, neither of whom deemed it the part
of prudence te remain on that spot over night, under the sur-
veillance of two men who, they ‘aad reason to believe. were
enemies to théir project. To “giye them the slip,” and
keep out of their sight as much as possible, was the ranger’s
proposition, which was deemed a feasible plan by all, and
which Wapawah declared they had better put into execution
without delay. They agreed to resume their journey under
cover of the darkness, and travel until daylight, and then go
into camp where they could not be found by those who were
dogging their footsteps. In order to leave no trail behind
them, it was decided that they should continue ther journey
by water. Wapawah said he had a canoe close at hand, if it
had not been disturbed since the last time he had used it, and
Kidd infermed them that he also had one down by the river,
which he had vacated but a few minutes before,
So they at once deserted the spot, leaving the fire to sink, |
an] smolder, and die out at its leisure. Both of the canoes —
“were produced and launched. By general consent Wapawah
took the lead in: his vessel, while Kidd, Herbert and Tony fol-
lowed in that of the old scout. Andin this manner they dip-
ped their paddles, and, like so many phantoms, glided noise-
lessly up the broad Miami, under the gloomy screen of night

 
a

Or PER VE
THE ENEMY AT WORK.

Tum following morning dawned. bright and cheerful, and
the sun ascended into a cloudless sky, shining down through
@ hazy atmosphere that told of the approach of Indian sum-
mer. ‘

Near the Miami river, about ten miles above its mouth, two
men came to a dead halt on the brow of a stéep hill, and
dropped the breeches of their guns to the ground with a long
breath of relief, as though they rejoiced in the completion of
a long and tedious journey. And, indeed, such was the case,
for. the men were Dick Hamilton and Crispin Quiggs, who,
having pushed steadily forward since early morning, had ar-

_ rived in good time at their destination. The hill on which
they had stopped overlooked a broad, beautiful valley, which
- Was wooded only on the side furthest from the river, ard in
the center of this low plain nestled the Indian town, consist-
ing of more than a hundred lodges. Gaudily-dressed savages,
male and female, old and young, could be seen moving about
throngh the village and adjacent woods, like a lot of bees
swarming about their hives, while a number of dogs sported
- in the sun, and several horses quietly cropped the grass in
_ different parts of the valley. Smoke ascended lazily from
_ the rade huts, and floated away at the mercy of ihe gentle
breeze that was stirring, and in spite of its wild, savage ap-
pearazuce there was an air of cheerfulness and comfort’ about,
_ the village that rendered it quite attractive, 3
Haniilton and Quiggs concealed themseives in a thick cop- —
pice on the hill, where they had the whole valley under their
inspection, and, settling down as comfortably as possible, they
looked inquiringly at each other, as though each invited the ~—
other to begin the consultation, eas!

-“ Well, we're here,” said Dick, at length. What next ? aes
‘We have lost sight of Thurston and his party, and have no
idea where they are at this moment. I suppose we must lie

Bees ANB Soe So ace

 
here until nightfall before we can act, and in all probability
they will be at work at the same time.”

“ And we don’t want to wait till they are at work before
we begin ?” said his accomplice, with a smile of singular im-
port.

“Hardly ; but there is no alternative.”

“T tell you there is.”

“Eb?” /

’ Dick Hamilton looked surprised. The dwarf pushed back
his iron-gray locks, and repeated, with increased emphasis:

“J tell you there is,” and the dwarf laughed.

“See here, young man,” said he, “ when you told me your
troubles, and procured my services for this expedition, didn’t

I tell you that a man more suitable for the work than I could
not have been hired ?” ;

“You made a remark to that effect, but did not explain

a,
_ “TJ will do so now. It may surprise you, but a little sur-
prise now and then isn’t going to hurt anybody.” Quiggs
leered at his companion, with an ugly grin, as he went on:
“J say, Hamilton, did you ever wonder where [ hailed from
when I appeared at Crumper’s a few months ago ?”

“ Never thought of such a thing—didn’t care, in fact.”

“Ha, ha, ha! Your interest was not awakened then?
But this is wasting time. I came from the Indians.”

“From the Indians ?” Ve

“Yes; I lived with them for four years before taking up
my abode at Crumper’s.”

“The deuce! A—a renegade, I suppose ?” ~

“Not exactly. I was captured by the red-skins, and
never exerted myself to give them the slip. I didn’t care
where I lived, if I lived in a place where I could get pleuty
of whisky and plenty of sleep, and both were: to be had
there. I was soon looked upon as one of them, and they
ceased to watch me, and I was allowed to wander wheré Tf
would; so I staid. But one day an inclination to see the

_ people of my own color at the settlements took possession of
me, and I left without bidding them good-by. I can go
back among them whenever I choose, and in perfect safety.
Now tell me if I am not the very man you want for this

w

eft

 
‘THE ARROW-MAKER OF THE MIAMIS,

_ business, and whether it is necessary to remain idle all day
or not?” concluded the little man, in a triumphant tone.

“Bravo! bravo!” cried Hamilton, exultingly. “The de-
vil’s on my side, at any rate. We need not lie in idleness
until nightfall. We'll outwit our enemies even yet. .They
will wait till it is dark before they can do any thing, whereas
we need not wait an hour, This is capital. Was it the
Miamis with whom you were living ?”

“Yes.”

“Tn this village ?”

“No. I lived at another town several miles north of this
one.” ;

“Then they will not know you here.” ‘ pore

“Fear not; they all remember me. I have come to this
place innumerable times, carrying messages, and it isn’t like-
ly Iam so soon forgotten by my dusky acquaintances. I
would much sooner trust my life with those Indians yonder,
than with my former Paras, at the present time.”

“ Why? ”

“Because, if I should now return to my captors, in all
probability they would punish me for running away.” :

“Perhaps these red-skins know of your escape and will
seize you.”

_ “So much risk I am willing to incur, when lured on by
gold. T’ll pull the wool over their eyes; trust me for that.”

“Since you have been in yonder village so often, I sup-
“pose you have frequently seen the old arrow-maker that has
brought us hither 2”

“ Never saw him in my life.”

“Indeed! then he could not have been there ?”

“T don’t know, but it is more than probable that he ia
been there ever since the hour of his capture. The red-
skins keep him hid, I opine, and let no pale-face, however
friendly, know of his existence. But I will find out whe-
ther he is there or not. There is no need of wasting more
time. I will go at once. You have nothing to do but wait
quietly here till I return,”

—. Crispin Quiggs took up his rifle, and pulled his sence 2
hat further down on his forehead. ;

_ Dick Hamilton leaned forward and whispered:

 
 
    
    

 

| -RED-ENIFE, oH WYANDOTTE j on,
“Tf you s see e hin—” and paused.

“Tf T'see him—” smiled Quiggs.

«You know what to do,” said Dick, faintly.

- The “dwarf laughed, and drew a long dagger from his

breast, which he turned over and over, with a look of admira-
tion. :

“Pll plunge it to the hilt in his heart,” he hissed, with a
sickening grin. “If 1 see him TI shall not leave the breath — ,
of life in his body. — But,” he added, “I can’t guess ai you
want your own uncle to die.”

“Tuat does not concern you,’ was the surly relaitiagt
~“Gratify my wishes, and—” He finished the sentence by |
‘
2

  
   
  
   
   
  

producing the bag of gold, holding it up before his confeder-
ate for a moment, and then putting it ont of sight again.

A greedy glitter of the eyes told how this act affected the
avaricious dwarf. But without another word he turned on rr?
his heel and strode away. He left the coppice, and was at
once exposed to the view of the savages. He walked straight
toward the village, as rapidly as his short legs could carry

him, and with an air of easy fearlessness, proving the truth-
fulness of his assertion that he bad lived with the savages 4
and was their friend.
“Dick watched him as. he moved away, and continued to
watch him until he entered the village and was lost to view
among a number of Indians who crowded round him, Then, ord
satisfied that Quiggs was safe, he sunk back into an easy
position, though he was flushed and trembiing with excite-
ment, and prepared. to await his return, The varying ex--
pressions of his countenance told that his thoughts were one x
moment of a pleasant nature, and the next gloomy, as they ~ #
passed, probably, from the reflection that he was nicely de- i
feating his rival, to a recollection gf the horrible crime he~
was avout tocommit to bring about this defeat. If he men-
tally praised his own slyness. one instant, he almost cursed —
 himseif for it the next. If he was overjoyed one minute
by the thought that Vinnie Sedgewick would be his, after
all, he was tortured the next by another thought that brought
up a bloody vision before his mind’s eye, and which was
closely connected with Crispin Quiggs’ present errand to a
_ Miami town,

 

  

yg

*
 

THE ARROW-MAKER OF THE MIAMIS. aa

‘The sun reached the meridian and pilesed it. The hours |
dragged slowly by, and still Dick Hamilton was alone. By —

  

this time he was burning with impatience, and chafing in
his lonely hiding-place like a prisoner in his cell. But just
as he was beginning to believe that Quiggs was detained per
_ force by the savages, and when the afternoon was more than
half gone, he saw the dwarf coming. To his surprise, when
the litle” man reached - the summit of the bill he walked
straight on, and passed the coppice without looking either
to the right or left. Suspecting that he bad lost the place,
Hamilton was about to call to him, when he instantly re-
flected that he might be doing it designedly, and held his
tongue. In a few minutes, however, the bushes parted on
the other side, an ugly, grinning face appeared, and the next
instant the dwarf was reclining on the ground beside his
confrere. He had chosen this Circuitous way of coming in,
for the purpose of deceiving such of his red friends as might
be watching him from below. :

“ What success?” inquired Hamilton, eagerly.

“Not the best in the world,” was the unsatisfactory re-_

ply.

The young giant eyed him narrowly.

“ No bloodshed yet 2” he asked, in a husky whisper.

“ Not a drop.”

“Curse you for a coward !” he eried, fiercely.

“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed the dwarf; “ you're growing huffy
now, and you shouldn’t do it so soon. There is excuse for
it, as T eee t seen nor ae of the arrow-maker, but what's
the use—”

“What! you haven’t been there all these hours without
seeing the man or learning something about him ?”

“tT have.”

“Then you are an idiot as well as a coward. oe

“Tet me hear no more such talk as this, Dick Hamilton.

Iam not accustomed to it. If i did not see the man it is
not because I did not look for him. I was in every lodge
in the village, and did not leave until I was positive he was
~ Not there.”

“Not there? Then what bas become of him. Why dids 38

you not make inquiries concerning him ?”

 

 

 

 

 

   
 
 
    
   
    
   
hein ‘Bepacie T was not estou of exciting suspicion in the
minds of the red-skins, which such a course would certainly
have done. I am of the opinion that they kept him hid
somewhere, though he’s in none of their wigwams, I am con-
- fident.”
“ Where, then, can he be ?”
“That remains to be found out. I haven’t given him up.
I took notice there’ was quite a, number of arrows in every
wigwam I entered, and I also observed that they were all
preciselyealike and evidently made by the same hand. ‘There
must be such a person as the arrow-maker, somewhere, and
we must find him before we leave this vicinity. Wapawah |
knows where he is; and I'll watch him if he attempts to
rescue him to night.”

CHAPTER: V-T&EI.
STEALING A MARCH.

Av a distanee of a half-mile below the Indian town was
an island—a long strip of Jand in the vey center of the
Miami river, green and beautiful, and densely wooded with
willow trees. «3

As it seemed to be an excellent place for concealment, as_
well as for rest, Wapawah and his party landed on this
island, and hid the canoes under the bushes that skirted it.
Here they remained the whole day, almost in sight of their
deadliest foes, not daring to kindle a fire, but keeping their

hunger in check by a small supply of cooked provisions they —
had brought from the fort. Indians were seen several times
during the day, generally in canoes crossing the river above |
them, bat once in a while in the forest opposite. For all —
this they were not discovered in their secluded hiding-place,
- although Tony Crane declared repeatedly that they would be,
and often mistook the leaping of a fish in the water for the ;
dip of an oar. Of course the hours dragged, as they waited
- there in idleness for the coming of night, but, as Herbert be-—
an to grow restless, the eccentric old scout, Kirby Kidd,

 
distinguished himself as a skillful killer of time by relating
stories of wild adventure and hair-breadth escapes, in which
he and the daring Wyandotte were the principal actors.
When the sun went down, and the golden October twi-
light began to give way before the advancing gloom of night,
it became a question who should accompany the Wyandotte
to the Indian village. It was a question soon settled, how-—
ever. As it was not deemed prudent for more than two to
go, and as there was comparatively no skill-or caution re-
- quired of those who remained behind, it was decided at once
_ that Herbert and Tony were the ones to be left on the

‘island, and that the Indian should be accompanied by his old Fit

friend, the ranger. To this decision, as may well be sup-
posed, Tony offered no objections whatever. Herbert was
disappointed when he saw that he was to have no hand in
the rescue, but he was prevented from demurring by the re-
flection that they stood a better chance of success as it was.
So he contented himself with remaining on the island, in
company with Crane, and thinking of Vinnie far away at
Crumper’s Station, and anticipating the pleasure of soon re-—
storing to her the father she had long supposed immortal.
The vague belief that Richard Sedgewick was not dead, had
grown upon the young man until, at this moment, he was
almost ready to accept it as an established fact that the white
captive the Wyandoite had spoken of, was the very man who
was lost one year ago, and whom nobody but himself expect-_
~ ed to see again on earth.

As soon as it was fairly dark, Wapawah and Kidd pushed
one of the canoes into the water aud entered it. After giv-
ing a few directions to Herbert and Tony, and agreeing upon
a signal by which the latter were to be apprised of their ap-
proach, the paddje- was dipped .and the frail vessel darted
_ away into the darkness like a startled thing, Wapawah,
who held the paddle, headed the craft straight toward the
shore, and the two scouts landed at a point directly opposite
the island. The night was without a moon, and sufficiently

dark to favor their undertaking. As they stepped ashore, — =

and drew the canoe up after them, they paused on the hanik
long enough to hold a whispered consultation and decide ope
; on the course ey were to pursue.

 
| Rep esr, THE WYANDOTTH ; de

ee You" ve seen "te chap and kaiwe whar’ to find him?’

said Kidd.

“ Yes, me know,” replied Wapawah. “ Won’t find him in

= de village; no find him dere; he no be dere.”

is What's that ares sayin ° Won't find him in the vil-
lage ?”

6h No.”

“ That’s qnare.”

“He no live in any of de wigwams,” repeated the Indian.

“ Whar’ does he live, then ?”

“Wait; find out soon ’nough ; Wapawvah show.”

Novody understood Wapawah’s ways better. than Kirby
Kidd, and for this reason he asked no more questions concern-
ing the whereabouts of the captive, but said, instead :

“Lead on, chief. You're conimander of the expedition,
and : ain’t fiir this beaver to sw’ar you don’t know: yer busi-
ness.”

Stealthily, noiselessly, the two men glided away through
the dark forest, keeping near the river-bank and moving up-
stream. Their progress was slower than was absolutely ne-
cessary, but they knew they had the whole night in which to
perform their task, and that extreme.caution was more essen-

tial to their success than hasie. Neither of them could pre-
vent a belief that Dick Hamilton and Crispin Quiggs were _
somewhere in the vicinity, and were there to defeat their plans,
but neither broached the subject to the other. Silently they
moved on, scarcely breaking a twig in their phantom-like
march, Wapawah in advance with his trained eyes constantly
on the alert, and the ranger, not a jot less watchful, follow-

‘ing close upon his heels.
fn a short time they came in sight of the village. Here

— \>ev halted, on the summit of the ridge, and for a few minutes
red the scene in the valley below them. There were _

- puacrous lights to be seen, and numerous shadowy forms moy-
ing about, and numerous Indian huts clustered together covering
a large portion of the plain. It was early, and the savages in
all parts of the village seemed in the act of preparing their
evening meals. Besides the fires that could be seen in largé
numbers out-doors, lights shone from the interior of many of
the lodges, and smoke poured from the orifices at the top. —

 
To our hunters this was a cheerful sight, for the air was chilly, —
and the warmth of a good fire would not have been the most —
uncomfortable feeling they had ever experienced. But. the
more important matter that filled their minds, gave them little

chance to think of this.
“ Which direction shall we take now ?” asked Kidd. “ Cal-
@late we've gone ’bout as fur as we want to go, this way, on- —

“less we wants to march in among them red-skins down

thar’.”

“No do dat,’ said the Indian, “No find white man

= Gere.”

“Then, whar’ll we find bim ?”

““Wapawah show. Foller Wapawah.”

' As he spoke ‘he turned abruptly to the right and began to
move along the ridge. Kidd followed implicitly. Proceed-

» ing in this direction, they neither increased nor lessened the

distance between Societe: and the village, but kept the lat-
ter constantly in sight. They did not speak to each other, ;
but maintained a strict silence, and kept up an unremitting ©
watch on every side, for such enemies as might chance to be
lurking in the wood around them.

They had gone but a rod or two, after changing their
course, when Wapawah stopped and recoiled so suddenly that
the ranger thought he had accidentally set his foot on a rat-
tlesnake, or something of an equally dangerous: character.

- But Wapawah was peering straight ahead, and he raised one
hand with a quick backward motion, which the ranger well
understood was a.signal to stop. He did so, regarding the. In-
dian for a few seconds in sence; then creeping close up to
him he whispered softly :

“What is it? What do you see?”
“Somebody dere, in our path—hidin’ in bushes,” was thé
reply, as he pointed to a dark coppice in front of =
“Did you hear ’em move ?”
“No beard cough.”
“T) yer think they’re reds 2”
“ Maybe so—muybe not. No tink dey Miami. y
“Think they're not Miamis? Why v”
“Cause Miami no sneak round he own town.”
as Wal, I reckon you're right thar ; _but—”

 
| RED-NITE, THE WYANDOTTE ; oR,

SH p :

At that instant another low, half-stifled cough proceeded
Eeint the interior of the coppice before them. Wapawah

turned to his friend, and said : :
“Stay here; me see what tis, Come back soon.”

“All right; slide ahead.”

Wapawah clutched the haft of his knife, bent his stately
figure till his black hair ley almost horizontally along his
back, and crept forward without the slightest noise.

Ina moment he was swallowed up by the darkness, Then, —
as his eyes were for the present out of service, Kidd put his
ears on the alert. All was still. Nota sound was heard,
Save an occasional sliout from some dusky inhabitant of the
village below, or the rustle of the dry foliage overhead as

- the wind swept through it. There was a minute of suspense ;
then the scout heard a guttural exclamation—a fierce, mut-
tered curse—the sound of -a blow—another exclamation—
another fiercer curse—and then came a noise as of two or
more persons struggling desperately in the coppice!

OH AS eR Tok
THE STRUGGLE IN THE COPPIOCB.

_ Krrsy Kipp felt that the time for action on his part had
come. He did not hesitate an instant. The scuffing sound,
‘mingled with the crackling and snapping of brushwood, told
im that bis friend was engaged in a close struggle with some-
body, and, consequently, was in danger. That man did not
live who could lift a hand against Wapawah, the Wyandotte,
in the presence of Kirby Kidd, without speedily coming to

_ the conviction that to harm ene was to encounter the aveng-

ing arm of the other, ;
Clutehbing his gun with both hands, he suddenly bounded
forward with the agility of a panther. With two or three
long leaps he cleared the intervening space, and was on the

spot where the ee were at eo He took in a at

 
a glance. “Before him, locked ina on embrace, were two.
“men, struggling desperately with each other, and putting forth

all the strength tbat lay in their powerful frames. Here and

there—backward and forward—now. bowing, now reeling—
each striving in vain to free himself from the other’s embrace
—they labored and panted like furious tigers—neither speak-

‘ing a word, or-making a sound, save by his heavy breathing, —

One of them was Wapawal; even in the darkness he could
tell that the other was a man of his own color. Disappointed
as he was at this discovery, it did not prevent him from ren-
dering the former his assistance. White man or not, he must
be a friend of the Indians if he was an enemy to the Wyan-
dotte, and whosoever was the Wyandotte’s enemy was also

his. At another time, and under other circumstances, he—

would have stood idly by and watched the contest, with all
confidence in his red friend’s ability to overthrow his oppo
nent; but at the present time, and under the present circum-
stances, he considered such a course not only a waste of time,
but dangerous, since the stranger might, at any moment, com-
pletely destroy their plans by a single outery. $

All these thoughts flashed through the ranger’s mind in a
twinkling, and he had no sooner fairly observed how matters
stood than he began to leap nimbly round the two men, look-
ing for achance to put in a blow. His gun-stock ~was_ uplift-
ed, ready to sirike, ani he had nosvoner gained the desired
opportunity than it descended with the quickness of light-
ning. There was a faint gleam; the sound of a stunning

blow ; a deep groan, and the white slipped out of his adver- =

sary’s arms, and lay upon the ground, a dark, insensible heap.
-Wapawah, finding himself suddenly relicved of his task, looked

at Kidd with a grunt of satisfaction, and then began to feel

about among the bushes in search of his knife, which he soon
found and returned to his belt. Kidd dropped upon his

: knees beside the fallen man, and rolled him over on his back, —
~ trying to obtain a view of his face, and half expecting to re-

cognize him.

“J wish thar’s light enough to give mea glimpse of his —

phiz,” he remarked. “ Maybe I knows him. Big feller, ain’t
: he? Mold me into buck-shot! He’s got the muscles of a
age ” ast 4:

 
oy ‘ a :

Ugh! much strong,” said Wapawah—“very much sifudy,
Big warrior; fight hard; great fight.” ;
~ “Yes; I reckon you met your match this time, ef you nev-—
er did afore. You're sum on the tussle, chief, I allow, but
- shoot me ef I don’t b'lieve this blasted snake are ’bout equal
to you, in p’int of muscle. He’s a reg’lar Samson.”

“Much strong,” repeated Wapawah.

“Do you know him ® asked Kidd.

“Yes; he from Crumper’s Station.”

Who is he?”

“ Big warrior. of pale-faces; Swaying Pine; Dick Hamil-
fon. =

“ Dick Hamilton, is it?—one of the confounded reptiles
that war’ sneakin’ round yer camp last night ?”

Wapawah answered by an affirmative nod.

“And you kotched him hidin’ in this thicket ¢”

“Ugh! he was crawlin’ away like serpent—I lay hand on
him—axed who I be—told him Wapawah—said big oath, den
‘struck me on de breast wid fist--den we grappled.”

“ Oouldn’t you ’a’ run yer knife into him at the first ?”

“No want kill him; he pale-face.”

“ Blast the difference. He’s a disgrace to his color.”

But Wapawah argued that they were not justifiable in
harming the man, as they could not prove that he was an en-
emy until he had done something detrimental to their
plans. :

“ What, then, shall we do with him ?” asked the ranger,

_ “ Leave here,” was the brief response.

“Let him go: free ??

“No; tie hands and feet, so can’t git away. Can’t take
him wid us; when come back, set free.”

_ “Maybe that cussed dwarf ain’t fur away. Maybe he'll
come ‘long and set the snake free ’fore we kin get back.”

“Let him do it—can’t help it. Got cord 2”

“Plenty of it.”

_ Kidd produced some buckskin thongs, and the operation of
binding their prisoner began. He was still insensible; had
he not been, it would have heen exceedingly difficult for the
united strength of those two powerful men to secure his
limbs. As it was, they stretched him on bis back, and. while

 
one bound his ankles with te: stot strips: of buckskin,
other tied bis wrists together.
“Wonder how much longer the feller's goin’ to stay sense-

less? IT reckon I give him aharder lick than I intended,

Hope ’tain’t goin’ to end his ’arthly career, though (swear =
to gracious Pve seen better men than him kick the- bucket,

- Let’s cut sticks, Injun.” A "

“All well—come "long. Leave de Swaying Pine alone —
let him sleep; he come to senses soon *nough.”

As he spoke, Wapawah turned his back on the scene, pe
glided noiselessly away. Kirby Kidd feli in bebind him, and
leaving their prisoner to his fate, they resmed_ their sleet
march along the ridge.

_ But they had no sooner left the thicket, than Dick anale
ton cautiously raised his head and gazed sharply in the direc-
tion they had gone. His eyes fairly blazed with passion, —
and he gnashed his teeth like an infuriated beast ! :

“ Curse them ’ he muttered; “they have gone away and
left me to endure, as best I can, the tortures of these con- —
founded cords.”

_Hamilton’s senses had returned at the very moment his
captors had completed the performance of binding his wrists

and ankles. In the darkness they were not aware tbat his

-eyes had opened, and when he saw that he was helpless, and
that the least noise on his part was likely to increase his dan- _
ger, he feigned unconsciousness, and lay perfectly still until ©
they had departed.

“T believe I could have killed that red-skin,” he. aramiad :
to himself, “if that white-man had not interfered. Thun-
der! bow my head aches! Wonder who that fellow. is?

Seems to be a particular friend of the Wyandotte’s. Some old
scout, I suppose. Curse my folly! They would not have mo-
lested me if I bad met them peaceably, and told a lie or two
to excuse my presence here. How long must. I remain in
this condition? That’s the question. These thongs are drawn

so tight that they almost cutinto my flesh, and there’s no tell-
ing when Quiggs will return.” — E

“ Here's the gentleman now, at your service,” croaked an

- unmistakable voice at his side.

_ “Hallo!” exclaimed Hamilton, joyfully.

7"

 
6 God: gracious, Quiggs, is this really you? How fortu-
nate! How came you here, anyway ?” F
“Ta, ha, ha!” laughed the dwarf; “what are you lying

: there for? Been getting yourself into trouble, eh ?”

“Trouble! Why, man, I’m about as nearly used up as ever
Iwas. ‘There doesn’t seem to be more than half my head
left, and these infernal cords are killing me by inches.”
The dwarf laughed again at this.

“ How came you in this pitiable condition ?” he asked.

“Don’t stand there asking questions all night,” cried Dick,
angrily. “ Cut these cords, so that I can get up.”

— Quiggs drew his knife, and with two or three quick slashes

set the young Samson free. The latter rose to his feet, cast

aside the remnants of the thongs and shook himself like a dog.

“ By thunder! that was a little the toughest tussle I ever
got into,” he muttered, feeling his arms, and then raising his
hands to his head. “I don’t want another such blow very
soon, Struck devilish hard. But, I say, Quiggs, did you just
- this minute get back 2” —

“Yes; I’ve been spying around the village for an hour,

oe - without even gaining a prospect of success. I can’t find out
where they keep their. white slave, unless I make inquiries of

one of the Indians, and that shall be my next step, in spite of
the suspicion it may arouse. I haven’t seen any/ of Thurs-
_ ton’s party, as yet—”

“7 have,” interrupted Dick.

© You have?”

“Yes, I’ve seen more of Wapawah and another big fel-
ow, within the last ten minutes, than I want to see again
ey soon. They were the rascals who knocked me down,

«The deuce !” exclaimed the dwarf, excitedly. “ Explain.”
1 es eG Pc. geluied, briefly, how Wapawah ane a

 

 
 

= “You say your senses “returned | ‘the moment before th
left you?” he asked, hurriedly. “ And you saw them
away ?” :

“ Exactly.”

“ Which way did they go?”

The desired information was promptly given:

“ By heavens! we'll follow them,” cried Quiggs. “Come, —

Hamilton ; we'll dog their footsteps, and prevent them from —

rescuing the man.”
“ Must I accompany you, or stay here ?”

“Accompany me, of course. Your strong arm may be
needed. 5,
Together the two villains left the coppice, and followed
swiftly but stealthily in the footsteps of the two cham-
pions, ae

CHAPTER X.
THE VALLEY CAVE,

Wapawan and his friend proceeded along the summit of -
the long ridge of hills, which turned gradually to the left as
it swept in semi-circular form round the village. Their way
was not again obstructed by human obstacle, but once in a
while they came to places they found some difficulty in pass-
ing. Nevertheless, they pushed on with all possible speed,
both considering time quite precious now, as both had secret-
ly conceived the idea that they would soon be followed by
Dick Hamilton and Crispin Quiggs. Neither of these wor-—
thies was an object of personal fear in their eyes, but th
freely acknowledged to-themselves that the wretches might
be able to upset their plans, if allowed the advantage of
time.

- At last they reached a point directly in the rear of the
dice if we may so term that part of the village furthest
the river. Here they paused and listened. No sound, be-
tokening the proximity of foes, was heard, thongh they half
expected to hear footsteps bebind then. They stoud on

 
high and steep eminence, and beneath them was a dense patch _
of timber, extending a short distance along the base of the
hills on either hand. As we have previously intimated, this
was the only part of the valley that was wooded, and that
~ would afford concealment to such pale-faces as possessed the
hardihood to venture within the preciucts of the Miami valley,

They did not stand still a minute.

“Move on,” muttered Kidd, glancing back over his shoul-

der, “Them cusses may have some way to git the upper

hand oi us, ef we give em time enough to overtake us.”

Alluding to Hamilton and Quiggs.

“No give’em time, den,” returned Wapawah. “ Come on.”

And, instead of continuing in the direction they had been
moving, he coolly began to descend from the high eminence
to the valley below.

“Hey? Goin’ down thar’ ?”

“Yes; come on.”

- Kidd followed without another word, and they began to
move down the declivity toward the subjacent wood. At
this point it was quite steep, and it required all the skill of
the experienced scouts to siep without sending a shower of
loose stones rattling downward. This would have created a
noise which it behooved them. to prevent if possible, con-
sidering that the success of their plans depended upon the
‘stealth with which they were executed.
~ But, as good luck would have it, they reached the base of
the hill without betraying their presence to the vigilant sen-
- tinels. pie
" Here they paused again. ‘They were now in the dense
grove of treés that covered this part of the plain, and it was
so dark they could scarcely see their hands before them.

Standing under the low branches of a large tree, they com-
bined the acuteness of their ears and listened inténtly for a

few moments. They only heard the rustle of the autumn
leaves, the distant scream of a panther, and a variety of
natural sounds from the village. Obviously, they had pro-
ceeded thus far undiscovered.

_ “No more danger of makin’ a noise,” observed the ranger,
feeling the contrast between the stony hillside and the soft
grass his feet now pressed.“ But let’s push on, kumrid.”

 

 
--Wapawab ane on, rae the ranger followed. The dark
ge now rendered their progress necessarily slow, as they

moved warily along the base of the hill, among trees, and —
logs, and, brushwood that could not be seen.

They had not taken fifty steps in this direction when they —
both stopped and drew back as of one accord. Right in their
pata, a short distance ahead of them, was a broad ray of light
streawning through the trees from some invisible source, and
flooding a small strip of ground with ils rufescent brilliance.

It was like the light from a camp-fire, but to all appearance —

it came out of the solid side of the hill, and was from no fire
at all! Wapawah was silent, as this sight came under their
observation, but Kirby Kidd, whom it seemed to puzzle con-
siderably, was not slow in cee his surprise.

“What in creation does that ’ar’ light signify ?” hee ex-_
claimed, speaking, however, in a soft whisper. “ Whar's”
the fire it comes from? and who wants to camp bynes:

Mold me into a buck-shot ef this don’t seem kinder cur’us to

me.”
The Wyandotte was silent still.

“YD you understand it, chief?’ added the ranger.

“Yes; me understand well,” was the cool response.

“The dogs yer does! Now see ’yer, Injun, qe do me
an everlastin’ favor by explainin’ the meanin’ of this.”

* 4 Dat light,” said the Indian, pointing toward it, “ dat light,
he come from fire—de fire, he in de cave.”

“Tn the cave/ Fire in the cave/ Skulp me fur a Mingo !
that explains the hull thing. Thar’s.a cave thar’, and that
light’s shinin’ out of it, and may I be ground into gunpowder
if that cave ain’t the place whar’ the white—”

“De cave.is de place where he lives—where de white
captive lives—de sad old warrior—de arrow-maker,” inter-
rupted the savage. ;

“ Jist what I war ’bout to ejaculate,” said the ranger. ase di

see through the bull thing now. The while manare confined

in that underground hole, and compelled to work like blazes
all day long. We kin steal him away ’thout any trouble ¥
he’s in thar’.”

Wapawah shook his head, but hams that such aD
answer could not be understood in the darkness, he added :

-

ye

 
“ Not git him easy. Have much Boas maybe” w

“ How—”
Sh! Look !? |

Wapawah pointed toward the cave. The act was unneces-

‘sary; Kidd’s eyes were upon the spot, and he plainly saw a

shadow pass through the stream of light—a shadow that

greatly resembled a human figure.
“Tnjun, by thunder !’ muttered the ranger.
“Yes, him Injun,” conceded the Wyandotte, quietly.
“What's be thar’ fur ?”

“To guard de slave.”

“Do they keep the chap guarded all the time ?”

“Not all de time—sometime.”

The ranger scratched his head.

“We've got to pass that imp some way, skulp me if we
ain't. Reckon his life’s worth no more’n other red-skins’, Is
the white man allowed any freedom inside the cave ?”

“ No—wear chains—big, heavy chains.”

“Does, eh? That’s awful unhandy. ‘You've seen this
-arrow-maker, chief; how did you get into his presence ?”

“ Went in with Miubaia « thought Wapawah enemy to pale-
face ; great medicine-man take him in. Good!” :

How are we goin’ to take his chains off?”

Wapawah shook a small satchel he carried at his side
Something in it rattled, with a metallic sound.

“ What you got in thar’ ?” asked’ Kida.

“Tools,” he replied; “tools take chains off man’s feet, ;
‘Brought’ ‘em from de ort e :

“ You're a trump, Injun. I might ’a’ knowed you hadn't
furgot to git the tools as are necessary fur this performance.
But we don’t want to stand hyur all night, and give them
durned pale-faces a chance to come onto us. Push forward.”

But the Wyandotte hesitated. Ca

“ Kidd stay here,” he said. “ Wapawab go forward alone;

- Wapawah put de guard out de way; den Kidd come.”

~All right, kumrid,” returned the ranger, with a chuckle ;_

Set gas wants tu assist that red-skin to kick the bucket, I
won't vbject, but hyur’s what ’d like to relieve ze of the”
_ job. Vee
The Wyandotte, however, seemed: unwilling to let es do

 
g0, for, without another word, he glided away, leaving Kidd
“standing there alone, The light was only a few paces dis-
- tant, and he had to approach it with extreme care. He could
see the savage guard walking slowly backward and forward

- in front of the cave, and judged, from his appearance, that

he was a formidable enemy to contend with. But this
thought did not hold him back. Like a hungry beast creep-
ing upon its intended prey, he gradually neared the unsus-
pecting guard. He drew his knife; he felt its point, and
ran his thumb along its edge, to satisfy himself that it was
‘sharp enough for the purpose in view. Then he clutched
it firmly in his right hand, and crept a little nearer. The
dusky foe paced his solitary beat with the easy, dignified step
peculiar to his race. Wapawah watched him as a Cat watches
a mouse. He soon found that he could approach no nearer
Without exposing himself, so he hid himself behind a tree
lear one end of the fellow’s beat, and lay in wait for his
victim. In a moment the latter came slowly toward him.
The light from the invisible fire revealed an ugly, ferocious-
looking wretch, but one whose countenance betrayed no sus-
picion of the presence of enemies. Wapawah crouched, and
gathered his strength for the spring; and when the savage
- €ame within two or three feet of him, and was about to
turn, he leaped from his covert with the quickness of light-
~ ning, and threw himself upon the startled Miami. With his
left hand he seized his enemy by the throat, to prevent bim—
from giving the alarm, while with his right he plunged his
knife to the hilt in the helpless man’s breast. This he re-
_ peated three times in quick succession, and when the lifeless
body dropped like a log to the ground, be retained his hold
upon its throat, and went down with it. When he rose to
his feet, there was a dripping scalp at his girdle, and the-
gory crown of the dead Miami told whence it came. j
It was all done in an incredible short space of time.
-Thrusting his knife in his belt, he laid hold of the corpse
and dragged il into some bushes near by, and then, springing
back, he began to walk up and down through the light, just
as the ill-fated guard had done. He gave vent to a soft, —
tremulous whistle, and Kirby Kidd came fo. ward. He smiled -
cantly as he joined his red friend.

 
ue Wha 8 the red-skin ?” he asked.

-“ He gone away,” was the brief reply.

“Gone to the happy huntin’-ground, I take it,” said the
scout, looking at the fresh scalp at his companion’s waist.
“ Thar’ ain’t a blasted Miami in existence that’s a match fur
you, old chap.”

“No time to talk,” said the Wyandotte, hurriedly. “ Heard —

noise on de hill—s’pect pale-faces foller us.”

_ Give the word, then, as quick as yer pleases,” said Kidd,
glancing toward the month of the cave, vhich was a large
aperture in the base of the hill, something in the shape of
an architectural doorway. Just inside a fire was crackiing
vheerfully on the stone floor, lighting up a small portion of
she wide, straight passage that ran back an indefinite distance
through the bill.

“You go in dere,” continued the Wyandotte, pointing to-
ward the fire, and speaking hastily. “Go in cave—turn to
de left trough door—find ’se’f in little room. Dere find
pale-face captive all "lone. Set him free—bring him out.

Pe Here ; take tools—unfasten chains,” he added, passing the

satchel to the old scout. ,

-“ You mean as how I’m to go in and set the old feller at
liberty,” observed Kidd, accepting the tools.

“Yes,” was the quick reply. “ Kidd talk to white man
better’n Wapawah. Me stay here—keep look-out fur enemy
—Miami see me, tink I Miami, too. Let my brudder bring

captive out quick.” oe
‘The ranger understood why the Indian wanted him to go
in, and did not hesitate. ;
3 Daraiig away from his friend, he stepped fearlessly ints
the dark, subterranean passage, to execute the task consigned
to him. He passed the fire in the entrance, and moved on
toward the impenetrable darkness that barred the passage he-
fore him, like a shapeless guard bidding him turn back. He
had proceeded but a few paces when he suddenly paused.
Several tiny rays of light, perforating the wall on the left,
streamed aross his path directly in front of him, like golden
bars obstructing his way. He looked at them curiously, and
followed them ‘to their source. with his eyes. He went u,
close to: am wall, and saw that they come taro small

 
tes there visible. A closer sorting asad faite there

was a door © there—a rude, wooden door, filling a natural

opening in the rocky wall, and evidently leading into an-—
other compartment. This discovery did not surprise him.

He understood at once that the door opened into the cell in
which the arrow-maker was confined.

Kirby Kidd placed his eyes to one of the crevices, and
looked through. He drew back with quite a pleased ex-
pression of countenance, glancing toward the mouth of the
cave to see that all was right in that direction. Then he felt
carefully about him. His hand touched a huge latch. He
raised it, pushed open the door, glided through, and stood in
the presence of the man he was there to release.

CHAPTER XI.

FREED FROM THE FETTERS.

Tun ranger had no sooner crossed the threshold of the
room, than he paused with his hand on the open door. He
found himself in a small, square chamber, lighted by torches,
but gloomy and dreary-looking for all that, The rough walls

were hung with a few old hides, a dozen or more quivers,
and several large bundles of arrows, while a number of use-
less articles, and utensils of various kinds, were scattered

about on the ground.
These things, however, were not the first observed.
A Sitting on a rude bench, near the opposite wall, was a
- man—the very man, beyond a doubt, who was to be res-
cued. He was powerfully built, broad-shouldered and muscu-
lar, and, as well as could be judged from his appearange in
‘a sitting posture, was tall and active, notwithstanding he
‘Was no longer a young man. His hair and beard were long,
and of u light brown color, threaded with silver. His face
was slightly wrinkled, but evidently more from care than
age, oes his gray eyes, in which the fire of yous” was not Ee

 
stirely conenied: wore an expression on settled nietanckiniy,
‘which harmonized well with the look of constant pain that —
contracted his brows. He sat on one end of the bench—
the rest of it was occupied by a number of unique tools,
bunches of feathers, and a pile of straight, slender little sticks,
made into the shape of arrows. He was at present occupied
in putting flint heads on these shafts, and at the same time
splitting the largest ends, preparatory to fastening on the
feathers. The workman’s feet were manacled with heavy

_ Chains, so that it seemed impossible for him to escape, even —

if no guard were stationed at the mouth of the cavern.
_ As Kirby Kidd pushed open the heavy wooden door, and
paused, with his finger to his lips, just within the confines of
the room, the man raised his head and stared at the intruder
‘with undisguised amazement. Observing that he was a white
man, like himself, he suffered every thing he held in bis hands
to fall unheeded to the ground, and undoubtedly would have
given utterance to an exclamation of surprise but for that
mute injunction of silence.
“Who are you?”
: The words, uttered’ in a low, husky tone, seemed forced
_ from the captive by his overwhelming astonishment.
“No matter—I’m a friend,” replied the scout, hastily, as
he glanced back through the open doorway.

The prisoner’s face lighted up with a gleam of joy.

“And yet you are a stranger,” he said, half-doubtfully.

_ His hands were clasped tightly, now, and he gazed at the
“scout with almost childish eagerness, his breath coming in
quick, irregular gasps.

“Never see’d you afore in my life,” conceded the coins

“but that’s neither hyur nor thar, A stranger kin bea friend,

-arter all, Needn’t open yer mouth; can’t waste time on pa-
Javer; know ’zactly what I’m talkin’ about. My handle’s

_ Kirby Kidd, and I reckon thar ain’t a man on the border
that’s an older hand at Injun-fightin’ and sarcumvention than
I. Yer knows Wapawah, the Wyandotte ?”

“T have heard of him. He is the white man’s friend oO

“YT should say he war. At Pao writin’ he’s in the em-
ploy of the commandant of Crumper’s Station.”

Indeed !”

 
THE ARROW- “MAKER OF THE MIAMIIS,

« Sure’s shootin’. And. at this moment he swede yt out
side the cave, waitin’ fur me to bring you out. a

Kidd bad approached the arrow-maker, and was standing
in front of him as he uttered these last words. The old man
seized his arm and looked up into his face. ae

“ You are here, then, “to release me from this vile captivity —
and bondage? You have come to take me home to my dar-
‘ling child? Oh, say that you have !” a

“ That’s jist what we've done, ef your name’s Richard Sedge-
wick.” s
“That is my name. I once lived at Crumper’s Station,
many miles from here, where, | presume, my daughter still
lives, if Heaven has spared her for so long a time. She can
not know that I am alive. I have been here for more thuana
year, and yours is the first white face I have seen during my ~
imprisonment. God grant that 1 may see my child once more
on earth !”

‘For a moment it seemed that the strong man “would be
overpowered by his emotion, but, taking notice of this, Kidd —
told him he must not give way as he valued his freedom. ;

“ You've got to be cool, old chap—cool aga cucumber. Tf
you can’t be cool, the jig’s up, that’s all. Yer daughter ain’t
dead, and I makes no doubt you'll see her ’fore many days ;
so keep up yer sperits, and don’t git excited.” : :

As the ranger spoke, he emptied the satchel of tools, drop-
‘ped upon his knees and began to work industriously at the
prisoner’s chains. ,

“ How can I ever repay you for this ?’ murmured Mr. Sedge- —
_Wick, as he watched the bold ranger at his work. ee

“You're talkin’ to the wrong beaver now, old feller,” re-
turned Kidd, shaking his head. ‘ This expedition war brung
about by a friend of your’n, named Herbert Thurston. He’s
allers had-a s’picion you warn’t dead, and at last he set out —
arter you, with Wapawah. I fell in with ’em last night, and —
jined’em. The young feller, and another chap called Tony
Crane, are over yender on a’ island, waitin’ fur me and the
Tnjun.”

3 * God bless Herbert, Thurston ! !” exclaimed Mr. Sedgewick,
in a trembling voice. “ He is a noble youth, and fearless. as.
che is noble. Gud bless him! But you, sir-—you are pli

 
“You mean me and the Injun? Lord forgive yen, stran-

ser, we wouldn't feel nat’ral ef we warn’t in danger.”

“ But there was a guard at the entrance.”

“Thar’s one thar’? now— Wapawah.”

“A Miami was there before you came in.”

“Jist so; but the poor cuss got sleepy, and we relieved
him. Wapawah helped him to remove his wig, and put him
to bed. Thar, the job’s did. Richard Sedgewicls, stand up.”

As the ranger ceased speaking he discontinued his work,
and the heavy chains fell rattling to the ground. Mr. Sedge-
wick started at the sound, rose to his feet with a bewildered
sort of an air, and gazed about him almost breathlessly, His
limbs were free.

“Tt is too good to be true,” he faltered,

“Mold me into buck-shot! I hope you didn’t think you was
goin’ to stay in this blasted hole furever, leavin’ yer child to
wear her ycung life away mournin’ fur you?” ;

“Oh, I will see her again—I will ! E will!”

“Wal, tharssin’t no use laughin’ ’fore you're out of the
woods,” said the scout. “ Thar’s a heap of risk in this.”

The released prisoner turned upon his brave deliverer a
look of terrible determination. His eyes: gleamed, his hand.
closed tightly, and he straightened his powerful frame, as if
nerving himself for a fearful struggle.

' “My friend,” said he, “ you have filled me with bright an-
_ ticipations, and now, rather than return to the hopeless cap-
tivity and servitude I have so long endured, I will die defend-
ing my liberty.”

“ Hist! what’s that?’ cried the scout, all of a sudden.
“Mold me into buck-stot, the jig’s up, sure as shootin [”

At that ins! int there was a commotion outside—a sound of
scuffing feet in the mouth of the cave! Then there was a
loud exclamation, a hoarse shout and a furious oath, The
two men exchanved glances, and stood like stags at bay. The
noises ceased almos’ instantly, but following close upon them
came another sound—tbat of quick footsteps coming along
the passage outside ! /
~ Somebody, friend or foe, was rapidly approaching.

 
CHAPTER XII.
AT CLOSE QUARTERS, i
“ Hyour, stranger, take this, quick! I cale’late you'll find
use fur it in the twinklin’ uf aca’s eye! Them footsteps
ain’t Wapawah’s.” | ;
The scout slipped a knife into the hand of the old Arrow-
maker, who clutched it firmly, and drew up his massive figure
with an air that showed he would fight to the last. He drew
in his lips till every vestige of blood was driven out of them,
planted one foot behind the other, and stood prepared for the |
desperate encounter that seemed at this moment inevitable,
His eyes flashed as they had not flashed for many a day, and
altogether he looked like a man who would sell his life dear-
ly, and his freedom not at all. :
The two men had no sooner thrown themselves on the de-
fensive, at the sound of the coming fooisteps, than a figure
darted into view, and came bounding into the room without
the least ceremony. 5
The figure was obviously possessed of wonderful agility,
though of gigantic hight, and a perfect Hercules in muscular
development. A glance showed that the intruder was a white
man. In other words, it was Dick Hamilton. The villain
paused in front of the two men, and drew back toward the
door. His hat was gone, and the dark hair, streaming un- —
restrained over his distorted face, gave him a look of devilish
ferocity. His eyes fairly blazed. He glared at the ranger
and his companion with a gleam of malicious triumph.
In his hand he helda pistol. Quick as lightning he leveled
it at. Richard Sedgewick, and fired !
“Take that, curse you!” he roared, “and if Herbert
_ Thurston marries your daughter it will not be i her
father’s consent. Ha! ha! ha!”
Had not the smoke dimmed his vision, it is not at all likely
he would have uttered these words, for the bullet flew harm;
lessly pet: the old man, and flattened ageing: the wall behind .
xm.

 
ae wrasporm

‘hen there was ay noise a of more coithotion. none Ba

r bounded into the room—there was the sound of a heavy

ble w, as dealt with a brawny fist—a thundering shout— a
roar of blind fury—a metallic ring, as of a pistol being dashed
to the ground—and then rose the sounds of a furious strug- _

gle. : ;
~ The smoke lifted, and then two men were seen, locked in

a close embrace, whirling round and round, and reeling back-

- ward and forward across the room.

One of them was Dick Hamilton—the other, Wapawah the

“Wyandotte.

It seemed a struggle of life and death, and it was evident

that Wapawah—despite the great strength of his adversary—

would be the victor. As they went staggering from one side

of the room to the other, the Indian caught a glimpse of

Kirby Kidd and the arrow-maker. His dark face brightened

as he saw that both were alive. f ;
“Fly! fly! he shouted, vehemently. “Go quick! Wa-

- pawah foller soon, Don’t stop! Hundred Miamis comin’ !”

: This brought Kidd to his senses. At any ether time he

would have stopped to assist the Wyandotte, but as he had

promised to follow the directions of the: latter on this occa-

gion, he saw there was nothing left for him to do but to look
to the safety of himself and his charge,

‘Seizing the old man by the arm, he dragged him, rather
than led him, toward the door.

“ Qome on, stranger,” he said; “ thar’s no time for prelim’ -
aries. Reckon you ain’t used to walkin’, but thar’s got to be
a sight of it did now. We must cut sticks purty lively ef we
git out of this place ’fore the reds git in. Hello!”

‘They had just reached the door when they were met by Cris-
“pin Quiggs, who, coming ut full speed, was about to dash pell-
-mell into the room. Finding his way barred by the two men
coming out, he paused suddenly and leaped backward. With a
quick sweep of his hand, he tossed back the long gray hair

that had fallen over his eyes, and gazed sharply at the twain —

confronting him. In an instant he had recognized them.
With a shriek of rage he drew a knife and sprung forward,
making a lightning-like slash at Richard Sedgewick. But the
blow was not well aimed, and inflicted no other injury thana —

 
slight scratch on his would be victim’s arm, Before the act |
could be repeated Kirby Kidd clenched his heavy fist, and
dealt the dwarf a blow between the eyes that sent him spin-
ning back into the passage, where he fell in a heap !

“Thar ?? exclaimed the scout, “ he’s laid out fur a minute
or two, at least. Come on now, while the road’s cl’ar.”

Hand in hand they leaped out of the chamber. But no
sooner had they done so than they paused again. For a mo-
ment they stood with their faces turned toward the mouth
of the cave, neither advancing nor retreating. No wonder. —
By the light of the fire in the entrance, which dispelled the .
gloom for quite a distance around, they saw a score of shadowy
forms swiftly approaching! They stood for an instant, as if
frozen to the spot. Escape by the mouth of the cavern was~
impossible. In another minute the cave would be swarming with
red-skins ! aes

“No use goin’ any furder,” said Kidd, in a low, calm voice.
“Thar’s no help fur’t, old man, and I’m sorry we’ve made sich

a shabby job of our attempt to set you free. Stand firm, and _ ;

I'll fight fur you to the last. You shan’t go under till I do.”
“ Here—come this way—quick! Don’t speak a word, nor
waste a second of time, but. come with me!” ;
It was Richard Sedgewick who spoke. Hurriedly, aka

fiercely, he seized the ranger, jerked him backward and liter-

ally dragged him along the passage! re
“Hold on! What’s the matter?” cried the TANCE, par-
tially regaining his equitibrium. ;
“Don't make a noise,” cautioned the other, “ but follow
- me—quick! for your life! There is a hole at the other end
of the cave, by which we may make our exit !” :
These words were not lost upon the scout. He knew he
would act imprudently not to heed them, for they told that es-
cape was still possible. Without another word he suffered him-
self to be led, swiftly, blindly, back through the long subter-

ranean passage—far back under the hill. They could hear

the savages yelling fiercely as they poured into the cave he-
“hind them. The sound only urged them to greater speed,
but, to make as little noise as possible, they ran on tip-toe.
The darkness steadily increased as they advanced, until they
could not see an inch before them. It noenieg., a miracle that

a

 
— the: ran "against nothing, but Mr. ei gaviinie was seaoati?
3 ees with the course he was pursuing, and if Kirby
Kidd had any unpleasant thoughts of collisions, the unabated
speed of his companion brought him to the conclusion that
the latter knew what he was doing, ;

“Tm blowed ef this don’t run back a purty good way,”
muttered Kidd, beginning to wonder if it had an end,

“1s much further, replied the Arrow-maker,

“ Yer seems to know this place by heart.”

“T’ve lived here long enough. I never knew, however, that
there was an orifice in this end of the eave until I made an
attempt to escape in this direction.” —

“ Tried to escape ?”

“ Yes ; several months ago.”

“ Didn’t succeed ?”

“J had no sooner reached the open air than I was seized
aS the heathens, and dragged back to my chains, with the un-
derstanding that nothing but my life would pay the penalty

-. of another such offense. So, you see it doesi’t matter much —
whether I die fighting to-night, or allow myself to be retaken,
though if one or the other were inevitable I should choose the
Fotiner. Listen | those wretches have discovered my absence,
What a din they are creating! In ten minutes a hundred of
them will be searching for me in the neighboring woods.”

“Tf they take the Injun’ s skuip PI never furgive myself,”

growled the scout, glancing back uneasily.

“Tam confident he will turn up all right,’ returned his
companion. ‘ At any rate we are powerless to help him now.
He will—”

-The speaker, suddenly came to a dead halt, and oe sen:
_ tence he had begun was never finished.

“Here we are!” he exclaimed,

“ Where ?”

“At-the end of the passage.”

“T see no hole.” cs

“Tt’'s above you, and entirely invisible from here. There’s
& . sort of natural rocky stuir-way leading to it, which is some-
what difficult of ascent, but I know, from experience, that it
can ‘be climbed. Follow me, and be careful in ges your
foot-holds.” !

 
“Lead on. Pm right at i yer © heela?!

Mr. Sedgewick sprang upward, and began to clamber up a
steep, rocky ascent, closely followed by the scout. :

-* This almost perpendicular passage was longer than. the
_ hunter had anticipated, and quite difficult to climb, the intense

darkness rendering their eyes useless, and leaving the only

alternative of feeling for places on which to set their feet. A.

F peonsle niisstep would bave sent them tumbling to the bottom.

Their progress was painfully slow, and the rescued prisoner

was fearful lest they would find their retrent cut off by ene-

mies when they reached the top. 5
At length, however, Kirby Kidd felt his hand grasped by a
that of his companion, and he was drawn out of the dees
hole into the pure air above ground. — ;
In another moment the fugitives stood side by side on a
solid footing; with the whole earth beneath them. The first.
thing they did was to cast a piercing glance about them. No
enemies were in sight. The night wasenot -yet far advanced,
and there was still no moon to drive away the darkness,
which the stars only slightly relieved. This fact, however,
- was hailed as a blessing, for, as the scout asserted, the greater
“the darkness the greater their chance of- escape. Wild
shouts and yells came up from the valley, and in a few
minutes, beyond a doubt, they would be heard in the noes
around them.
_ . “Come on, stranger,” said Kidd, sarees: st We’ re cuttin’
-our own noses off by standin’ hyur. Ill take the lead now.” —

CHAPTER XIII.
CONFUSION IN THE CAVE,

; ‘Dick Hammron and Crispin Quiggs had followed the two
‘scouts, Kirby Kidd ae the Indian, in order to find the place :

ans invented for that issleraattts rescue, - When the scotig
peed the hill to the long strip of timber in the

 
below, these precious rascals were not far behind, dogging
their footsteps with cat-like stealth. Down the long decliv-
ity they crept, carefully and determinedly, flitting from tree
to tree as noiselessly as phantoms, Quiggs taking the lead,
with his practiced eyes gleaming like coals of fire beneath
their shaggy brows. When Wapawah went forward alone,
for the purpose of removing the Miami guard, as we have
seen, the two villains paused to watch their movements.
Both were very much in favor of slippind“forward and killing —
Kirby Kidd as he stood there alone, but both were, also, very
much afraid to take upon themselves the perpetration of such
a deed, as it would be very dangerous to them. Hamilton
thought Quiggs ought to do it, since he was hired to prevent
the liberation of the captive; and Quiggs declared he should
not hesitate a second if he were as big and strong as Hamil-
ton. This abashed the young man, whose greatest ambition
was to appear brave in the eyes of other people, and he was.
about screwing up his courage to the sticking place when
there came a signal from Wapawah, and the old scout strode
rapidly away in answer to it.

So that game was ended before it was fairly begun.
Nevertheless they were still persistive, and they stole cautiously
forward in the tracks of the two companions, both judging
from the stream of light in front that they were approaching —

-acave. Safely concealed near. by, they saw the white man
enter the cave, while the Indian began to pace up and down
in front, as if determined to keep ‘off any enemy that should
attempt to interfere with his companion’s work. Now was
held another consultation between Quiggs and Hamilton, both
of whom thought it quite necessary to clear the way between
them and the interior of the cave, and the only way to do

this was to slip up behind the Wyandotte and close his mortal

career as quietly as possible. But, as before, a disagreement
arose as to who should perform this little tragedy, both of
them being more afraid of Wapawah than they were of Kidd,

Hamilton swore it was not his place; Quiggs said it would
be madness for a man of his size to attack the big, muscular

savage without help. Hamilton got angry, and said Quigga —
- would either do it or go without the gold. With a sneer at
_ Hamilton’s evident cowardice, Quiggs then turned away and

 
THE ARROW-MAKER OF TEE MI

“said if that were the case he would do well to retace his |
steps homeward immediately. Hamilton thought of Herbert
Thurston and Vinnie Sedgewick, and eagerly ‘detained the
dwarf, changing his tone on the instant. He agreed to take
upon himself the danger of attacking their.enemy, provided,
in case his assistance was needed, his confrere would not be
slow in joining the affray.

“Do you agree to this?” he demanded.

“To such a course I have no objections whatever,” replied
the dwarf.

“And you will not hang back if I am overpowered ?”

“Tn such a case I will render you all the assistance I can;
but you surely haven’t much faith in your own strength and.
agility if you think that red-skin is capable of overpowering —
you. Don’t stop to talk, however. That white hunter has
had time enough to release the captive and bring him out,
while we have been jabbering here. Be quick, man. Maybe
they’l] make their exit from the cave by some other opening
than the mouth.” :

This thought had not struck Hamilton, and the very possi-
bility of such a thing almost drove him wild. He did not
hesitate another instant, but snatching a pistol from his belt,
- darted out of his hiding-place like a shot, and glided swiftly
toward the Indian, who at that moment chanced to be stand-

Be ing with his back toward him,

But anybody, knowing Wapawah as well as did: Dick
Hamilton, ought to have known -that he was never to be
caught napping. Tlie wily savage knew the villainous pale-
_ faces were concealed near by, though he bad not shown that
he even supected such a thing. 2

He waited quietly until’the man had approached within 4 a
few feet of him. Then, with the quickness of lightning, he
turned upon bis would-be murderer, and dealt bim a stunning
blow in the face with his fist. With a loud exclamation of
pain and surprise, the baffled ruftian tumbled backward and
measured his length on the grass. Then, withont attempting ~
to rise, be gave utterance to a fierce imprecation and pointed
his pistol at the Indian’s head. But the latter was not to be
frightened by this act. With a sudden movement he dashed
_ the weapon to the ground before it could be discharged, fod ,

 
then soa Fedk, vee for his adversary to rise. It is im-

possible to tell how the affair would have ended, had not
Crispin Quiggs seen that the assistance promised by him would,
at this point, come in good play. The little man boarder
forward like a rubber ball, with no weapon in his hands, but
with a look in bis Heahing orbs that showed his design was
deadly. Before his swift approach could be checked, or his
intention divined, he gave a yell and leaped upon Wapawah’s
back ! With both hands he clutched the Indian’s neck in a
vice-like gripe, and began to choke him todeath! Wapawah
whirled round and round, and tried hard to shake bim off,
but every effort to dislodge the little wretch was fruitless.
Perched upon his victim’s back, he clung as tenaciously as
a panther, his long, bony fingers slowly. doing the work of
destruction.

Before this struggle could come to a fatal termination, how-
ever, Dick Hamilton Tecovered his pistol and BPHIE to his
feet. .

He took in all at a glance, and saw that he ebeld not shoot
his enemy without endangering the life of his friend. So,
feeling it incumbent on himself to do something, he struck
the savage on the head with the butt-end of his pistol. The
blow was a tremendous one, and Wapawah was stunned. He
toppled forward and fell sprawling on bis face. The mishap
proved a lucky one for him, for the fall broke the grip on his.
throat, and sent the dwarf rolling several yards away.

Dick Hamilton did not pause to note the effect of his im-
prudent act, but dashed into the cavern, leaped over the fire
in the entrance, and was out of sight in a twinkling.

Luckily, Wapawah was only stunned for the brief space of
2 moment. As scon as he touched the ground his senses re-
turned, and he gathered himself up with all possible haste.
Quiggs did the same. Observing that but one enemy was left
to contend with, the Indian drew his tomahawk aud burled it

at him with an unerring hand. But Quiggs was no less act-
ive than his antagonist. With a movement as swift as.light-
ning he dodged aside, and the tomahawk flew harmlessly by,
burying its edge in the tree behind him,
At that instant ‘a series of savage yells 1 rose on the dil.»
night air coming from the village. A score of throats took

 
TE ARROW-MAKER- OF THE IIAMIS, as
3 up the cry, and it was at once apparent that the noise of. the
commotion in the vicinity of the cave had reached the ears 8 of
the Indians !-

Wapawah did not wait for further proof of this. Wheel-
ing round, he bounded into the cave like a hunted deer. Just
as he did so, the report of Hamilton’s pistol rung out clear
and loud from the chamber within. - ; ux

Crispin Quiggs was left alone outside. For a few painful
seconds he was undecided how to act. Silent and irresolute,
he glanced hurriedly about, as if contemplating flight. But
it occurred to him that, if he should take to his heels and was
caught before he could. make good his escape, he would
be put to death for treachery, of which that very act
would condemn him. On the other hand, supposing he should
stand his ground, it was more than probable he woul
receive the penalty of treachery, unless he could inven
that would satisfactorily explain his presence there at
particular point of time. tg

_ He had little time to decide. All at once a new idea took
possession of him. He brightened up, and determined to act
upon it, whatever might be the result.

He stood perfectly motionless until the foremost of. the
coming savages were near enough to see him, as he stood in
the light of the fire. Then, whipping out his knife, he tarned
toward them and shouted, in the Miami tongue:

“Come on! There are pale-faces here !”

- With*that, he gave the glittering steel a flourish in the air,
and sprung into tlie cavern, as if leading the way for his red _
friends.

How he was met by the heavy fist of Kirby Kidd, as he

attempted to enter the prison-chamber, we have already

~ $een. -

We left Dick Hamilton and Wapawah struggling despe-
rately in each other’s arms, in the arrow-maker’s apartment.

_ The contest was of short duration, however, nor was it Car-
ried to a tragical. termination. When he saw thut his friends
were out and gone, the Indian had no desire to harm his op-
ponent, and when they heard the savages coming they parted
as of one accord. Dick Hamilton ran to the door and came
back ages pale as death. He had a perfect horror of falling

 
70 RED-KNIFH, THE WYANDOTTE; OR,

into the hands of the Indians, and he saw that escape, by the
mouth of the cave, was absolutely impossible. Wild with
fear, he began to run round the roum in search of another
opening. ‘Strange to say, he found it. In one corner, be
espied a deep, dark recess, and snugly ensconced hinten in
jts furthest corner, where he lay trembling and silent, listen-
ing to the noise in the room without, and praying that bis
hiding-place would not be discovered. ;

Wapawah made no attempt to hide from his enemies. As
soon as his arms were free he began to rub a portion of the
‘paint fram his face andsbreast, which, if left on, would have
shown that he was a Wyandotte.» When this was done, be
placed himself near the door, with his back toward it, and
waited for the savages to enter. As they came rushing in, he
—dextrously thrust himself among them, and instantly became
one of the yelling crowd without attracting attention.

Hamilton saw this, and began to tremble more violently
than before. He feared the Wyandotte would cause him to
be dragged out of the niche. B ut he need have felt no un-
easiness on that score, for Wapawah had no desire to offer
him the least injury, now that Kirby Kidd had escaped with
the captive. To the mean, unprincipled wretch, quaking in
his narrow lurking-place, the Indian’s forbearance to take ad-
vantage of the man with whom he bad been fighting for his _
life, Was something he could not understand.

Crispin Quiggs had gathered himself up by the time the
savages arrived on the spot. The blow from the ranger’s fist
had been a stunning one, and he had found himself unable to
rise immediately.

In answer to the many suspicious inquiries put to Lim by
his dusky friends—who had kept the seeret of the white cap--

_ tive even from him—Quiggs replied that he had been moving
toward the village when a loud shout and curse drew him in
the direction of the cavern. ‘This proved satisfactory.

He was as glad to find that Hamillon was not in the cave

as he was angry when he discovered that the prisoner and hig

rescuers were also gone. How they had escaped he could not —
imagine, but gone they were. He did not recognize Wapa-
‘wah—probably did not see him, for the Indian was sly enough -
is keep out of his way.

 
“THE ARROW-MAKER OF THE MIAMIS. .

Watching his chance, the dwarf slipped out of the crowd
when no one was watching him, and stole putes to look
for his missing companion.

CHAPTER XIV.
THR DWARFS PLOT.

As may be supposed, the rage of the savages knew no
_ bounds when they entered the prison-chamber and found the
prisoner gone. They looked at the chains with which, his
feet had been fettered, and saw that they had been removed
by tools well fiited for the purpose. In fact, it became plain
to them instantly that some daring friend of the captive had
spirited bim away under cover of the darkness, and that ae
Me was left for them to do but to give chase.
_ As if the thonght had struck all of them at onee, they gave
a yell in concert, and began to pour out of the cave in a body.
The news of the white slave’s disappearance was carried to
_ the head chiefs of the village, and it spread with the rapidity
_ of lightning, till every Indian in the valley, old and ‘young,
knew that the old arrow-maker had taken French leave,
Large numbers of warriors were sent out in every direction,
with orders to scour the country far and near, nor ae un-
til the runaway was recaptured.
Not until all this was done, did any one think of the guard,
~ who had been stationed at the mouth of the cave just at
nightfall. Then-he came to the minds of some, and was
mentioned to others. The fellow was missing. During the
~ excitement of the lust hour he lad not been seen, nor thought
of. t
Supposing he had been killed ee the captive’s champion, a
small party went to look for his body. ~
Aud they found it. Lying in a clump of bushes, where
1¢ slayer had evidently taken the precaution to conceal it,
hey found the body of their brother. He had been
killed ny a knife but, worse than that, be had been stripped -

 
RED-KNIFE, THE WYANDOTTE ; oR,

of every inch of the clothing he had worn before his death !

He was stark naked. Not a vestige of any garment was left

to protect the stiffening corpse; and even the glittering

adornments, worn with such pride in life, had all been carried
awidy. Whoever their unknown enemy was, they thonght he
must be a very covetous man, to. rob his victim of his cloth-
ing, poor and scanty as it was; and the howls of lamentation
that went up from their savage breasts were mingled with vo-
ciferous vows of vengeance.

Dick Hamilton, crouching in the furthest corner of the
niche in the wall, trembling and breathless lest he should be
discovered and dragged out among the infuriated heathens,
was almost beside himself with joy when the noisy crowd
- poured tumultuonsly out of the chamber, leaving it entirely
vacant. ‘Finding the coast clear, he tarried no longer in his
unpleasant quarters, but crept out and stole to the door.
Cautiously he thrust his head out, and ran his eye up and
down the passage. The Indians had really deserted the eave. |
The watch-fire in the entrance had sunk to a mere bed of
coals, thereby ‘giving him a much better chance of escaping
unseen, and he determined to make the attempt without de-
Jay. He knew it was a hazardous undertaking, since he ran
the risk of throwing himself into the hands of a lot of mur-
derous wretches, whichever direction he should take, and in
such a case he would undoubtedly be set upon and literally
torn to pieces, as the person who had set the captive free.
But he deemed it better to run this risk than to remain in bis
present hiding-place, for he could not tell at what minute the
Indians would return and search every part of the cavern
thoroughly.

Mustering up what little courage the occasion allowed him,
he moved softly along the passage toward the opening. He
passed the smoldering fire, and ‘Stood a moment in the en-
tranee. Nothing of a susnicious nature was seen or beard in
the immediate vicinity, and he deemed it advisable to venture
forth at once. mee

He stepped out, paused, cast a hurried glance around, and —
then ran swiftly along the base of the hill, toward the point —
wnere he and the dwarf entered the valley. %

_ Upon reaching this point he began to ascend the hill, rap.

 
“THE ARROW-MAKER OF THE MIAMIS,

idly and at a risk of betraying himself by sending a shower of
Icose stones to the bottom., But, fortunately for him, no such
accident befell him. Once or twice he heard footsteps not

far away, us of some one ascending or descending the hill,
but on such oceasions he stopped and hugged the ground till
the sound died away, when he would resume his course with

caution,

Bi He reached the summit of the ridge, and was moving on,

when he was startled by a rustling in the bushes near by.

He paused suddenly, and fairly held his breath.

The next instant a hand was laid roughly on his arm, and
he was drawn rapidly along through the darkness, while a fa-
mniliar croaking voice cried, almost in a whisper :

“Come on, man! Don’t let the grass grow under your
feet. There are red-skins all around us !”

The speaker was Crispin Quiggs.

: “Red-skins !” repeated Hamilton, running along beside his
_. little friend. “How do you know ?” oes
“How do I know ?” was the impatient rejoinder. “ Have
I not seen and heard them? The captive and his champions
have effected their escape, and the Indians are hunting their
trail with lights. Bless yous man, the forest swarms with
* them !”

“Where are you going ?”

“ Anywhere, to get out cf the way of these rascals. Not
that I care for myself, since I have nothing to fear from them,
but you know it won’t do to let them discover you.”

_ “Very true. But must we give up all thought of prevent-
_ing the rescue of my uncle ?—for he is my uncle, Quiggs. IT
saw him, and shot at him.”

“For the present, yes,” replied Qniggs. “I have already
laid my plans. I will disclose them to you at once, and

then—” g
~~ “ Good heavens !” cried Hamilton, suddenly.

Both started back, and unconsciously grasped each other’s
arm, A loud, crazing, blood-chilling yell—one of those reg-
ular Indian war-whoops, which, when once heard, can never be
forgotten—echoed and re-echoed through the forest uisles, _

3 such as might be supposed to express the triumph .of a score
~ of demons. ete

 
eM _ RED-KNIFH, THE WYANDOTTE; OR,

“ What does that mean ?” asked Hamilton, breathlessly.

“Tt means they have found the trail,’ whispered the
dwarf.

© What trail ?”

“Why that of your uncle and the scouts,”

“Good! TI hope they'll catch them.”

“ Maybe yow ll be the first one caught.”

“Not unless you betray me, I think—”

SS DOK "4

Something bright flashed out in the darkness before their
eyes, and attracted their attention. -

They looked, and a short distance away through the trees,

~ beheld three Indians moving slowly along. They were all

stooping as they walked, and one of them carried a tiny light,

by the aid of which they seemed intently scanning the ground,

» Every yard or two they would stop, bend lower, move the
light about as if searching for something, and then glide on

_as before, all, seemingly, so wrapped up in their work as to
notice nothing else.

“They are the ones who gave the war-whoop,” whispered —

the dwarf. “They are on the trail, and have signaled to the ~
others. Listen !” .

Yell upon yell was now heard, near and far, and the three
trailers were scarcely out of sight when a tramp of many feet
was heard in the woods on every side. The two white men
sunk to the ground, and hugged it as closely as possible, the
taller one shaking with terror as the fearful sounds burst upon
his ear. The footsteps increased—the crashing of brush-_

wood grew louder—the whoops seemed frightfully near—and neg

several times the crouching whites saw shadowy forms flit by
almost within reach. At one time they thought it was all up
with them. “A big, athletic warrior came bounding along at
the top of his speed, stumbled over Hamilton, and plunged
headlong into the bushes. As luck would have it, however,
he gathered himself up and ran on, without suspecting the
true cause of his fall. ;
“T rather guess Wapawah will lose this game,” said the
dwarf, as soon as he could venture to speak: “They can’t
be far away, and if these red-skins don’t catch them before
they reach Crumper’s Station, it will be a miracle.” :

 
| THE ARROW-MAKER OF THE MIAMIS.

iY ® Seiapess the Indians should get on our trail ” said Ham-
-lton.

“No danger of that, now; there was, before they found
the other trail, but ours is likely to remain undiscovered
now.”

~ “ What shall we do?”
“Stay here for a while.”

“ And then?”

“YT will tell you. .I suppose you are aware that there was
an Indian guard in front of the cave when Haney ah and the

hunter approached it ?”

“ Certainly.”

“And that Wapawah killed him?”

gM SY G8." :

“ Hiding his body in some bushes ?”

“ Exactly.”

-“ Well, here is the fellow’s clothing.” s

-Quiggs produced a small bundle, and placed it into the ~

; ae of his astonished companion.
_ “Take these,” he said; “ you will need them if you follow
my directions. While the Miamis were in the cave, I slipped
out and robbed the dead Indian of all his clothing and orna-
ments, having formed my plans in a moment. I want you
to remove your own clothes, put these on, stain your face with
something, and go at once to Crumper’s Station !” :
“WHat? :

“Don't interrupt me; I know what I’m talking about.

We can do nothing furtber to prevent the escape of your

uncle, without exposing ourselves to the Indians. Al-
- though his chances at present seem few and slim, you know

there isn’t. a more cunning man in the country than the Wyan-

dotte, and he may outwit his enemies after all, In that case
your uncle will return home with bis life, consent to the mar-

‘Yiage of his dunghter and young Thurston, and you will be

cheated ut your own game, Now; if you will disguise your
__ self as an Indian, go straight to Crumper’s, watch your chance

and steal Vinnie Sedgewick away from her home, you will ~
then have her in your power whether the father is saved or
not.”
~The disclosure of the crafty little villain’s plan. fiew Ham:

 
we: _

%  ——«&RED-KNIFE, THE WYANDOTTE; oR,

flton into a fit of musing. It was a daring game, and he
doubted if he possessed courage and cunning enough to coanry.
it through.
“ Suppose, after this is done; her father should be killed or
recaptured 2” he asked. :
“Then,” replied the dwarf, quietly, “you can leave the
girl for a few minutes in the woods, return to her in your
own guise, play the part.of rescuer and take her hone.”
“And if her father returns home in safety ?” 2
“ Even then you will do well | to play the part of rescuer, re- ;
fusing to take her home, however, until she promises to be-
Some: your’ wife. Offer no objections to my plan, for I can
parry them all. Besides, we have no time for argument,
Come! we are in danger as long as we sit here. I will go
a mile or two with you, and then return.”
The word “ danger ” was sufficient to put Dick Hamilton |
in motion, so he was on his feet almost as soon as it was said,
and off like a ‘shot with his little friend.

OAR TE Rox Vy
WAITING FOR WAPAWAT,

Herpert Tiursron and Tony Crane, waiting on the

island above, were not a little alarmed for the safety of their

friends when the great hubbub in the Indian village was _

borne to their ears. It told them that Wapawah and Kidd 5

had failed to rescue the captive without attracting the atten- —
tion of the savages,and to them it was a matter of painful
uncertainty, whether the scouts had made off with the pri-
soner, and were pursued, or whether they had been discovered —
in the very act of releasing him, and captured—or, probably, —
killed? Tony’s opinion leaned toward the latter probability,
and Tony’s motion was, to take the remaining canoe and sail
down the river with all the speed they could muster. Not
that he was afraid—preposterous !—but he confessed to a
mensions he had discovered in Vinnie Sedgewick, and he

 
THE ARROW-MAKER OF THE MIAMIS,

could not bear to think of her going down to the grave with +
a broken heart because of his death ! ‘

Herbert would not listen. ,

“JT will not move a step until I know the wiiole truth,”
he said, grimly. “I led them into this difficulty, and I will
share their fate. You can go if you like, only you must not
take the canoe. - But I believe the scouts are still free—though
hotly pursued—for the noise comes nearer every moment, and

mates, sounds very like a chase.” . s
When the tumult broke out, Herbert and Tony were sitting
on a fallen tree in the center of the island. Now they stood
on the shingle, close to the water’s edge, straining their eyes
through the intervening gloom, in the hape of catching sight
of their friends on the opposite shore. Tony trembled with
fear —Herbert with suspense.
~~ All at once they heard the soft dip of a paddle. Then a
dark, shapeless shadow appeared, coming swiftly toward them
across ‘the water. Thurston brought his gun to his shoulder
as qnick as thought, and covered the shadow. A steady hand
raised the hammer, and a steady finger touched the trigger.
But at that instant a witistle—very low, but very distinet—trem-
pled through the air, The young man lowered his gun, and
answered the signal joyfully. Tony heaved a deep sigh of
_ relief, and muttered:

“Its them, dog my cats ef ’tain’t! I.reckon we'll git fer
hum now, and I'll be derned ef I ain’t willin’! Oh, Vinnie,
my darlin’, I’ve been amply revenged on you, and may I be
skun fer a noosance ef I ever leave you ag’in.” ;

The next minute a canodg grated on the sand, and two
men leaped nimbly ashore. : ; ‘

“Wal, hyur we. are,’ said the cheerful voice of Kirby

Kidd. “yur we are, youngster, but I’m blouwed if we did-
n’t have to put our best feet for’ards to get hyur uhead of
the Injuns. They’re comin’ like all possessed—thbe hull
town’s arter us, and I’ve a g’ eae they’ll come right to this
island.”

“Good Lord!’ gasped Tony ; “this is awful. Wouldn't
ea be quite becomin’—at least, wouldn’t it be prudent—that
is, hadn’t we better turn: tail on this confounded fe and
ee 2

 
78 = - RED-KNIFE, THE WYANDOTTE; OR,

“See hyur, kumrids,” continued Kidd, without heeding
Crane’s interruption, “ what you standin’ thar’ like numskulls
fur? Ain’t you goin’ to give this chap no sort of a greetin’
- whalsomever ?”

They had thought the ranger’s companion was Wapawah
until this moment. The words of their friend had the ef- -
fect of surprising them exceedingly, and causing them to look
more closely at the person accompanying him. _ Herbert’
started as the truth flashed upon him, He stepped forward,
trembling violently, and scrutinized the man’s face.. Then,
with a joyful exclamation, be seized the man’s hand and -

shook it warmly, heartily, rapturously.

“Thank God! thank God! It is Richard Sedgewick !”

“ Yes, Herbert,” replied the new-comer, in a voice husky
‘with emotion, “ yes, Herbert, it is Richard Sedgewick, and
he joins with you in thanking God. Also, let me invoke his
blessing on you, for your good friend here has told me all.
Your thoughtfulness and noble-hearted bravery have been
the preservation of 1 my life—”

“Please don’t,” interposed the young man, stammering
and blushing like a gir. “ You will do me a favor if you
won't mention that again. You praise me too highly. I
may claim credit for thoughtfulness; nothing more. The
bravery has all been with Wapawah, the Wyandotte, and
this daring scout. TI am sure, sir, we all feel a thousand
times repaid for. what little we have done, by the success of
our enterprise. My greatest desire, at present, is to restore
you to your daughter, who thinks you dead. By heavens!
I feel as if nothing could ever make me unhappy —
Ha, ha, ha! I know I have been hoping again hope, s Be
and, now that [ find myself standing face to face with yay

it seems to me as though I have been instrumental in raising
the dead.” i

He paused, as he felt a tear fall on his band, and heard a
murmured, “ God bless you!” from Mr. Sedgewick’s lips.

“And this is Tony Crane,” snid the old inan, a moment
later, as he shook that worthy warmly by the hand. “TI
am glad to meet you, Tony—very glad indeed to. meet

a XS

Tony had already taken it for granted,

 
: a AnnoW-t\KER OF THE MIAMIS

sk Hain't Wapawah been Eye ” asked the ‘ranger, with
some anxiety, laying his hand on Thurston’s arm.

“Not since he went away with you,” was the reply.

“He’s among the Injuns, then, I reckon,” said the ran-—
ger. “Hain’t see’d him since me and the captive left the
valley.”

“ Shall we wait for him ?”

“Fur a few minutes, I reckon, though I ‘low ’tain’t no
use, fur ef anybody’s able to take keer of hisself, the chief
are. I'll wager my ha’r he’s playin’ Mini.”

The shouts of the pursuing Indians had entirely ceased,
and the same deathlike silence that had reigned previous to
the rescue of the captive, now brooded over the country,
From any thing that could be seen or heard one might con-
clude that the savages had given up the chase and returned
to their lodges. Once, indeed, they saw a tiny light among
the trees on the shore; but it was gone ip an instant, *
and was not seen again. This lull in the storm was received
with much favor by Tony Crane, who ventured an opinion
that they might now begin their homeward journey without
_ further fear of molestation. But Tony was laughed at, and

for fear be had branded himself, in the eyes of his friends,
as an incorrigible coward, he made haste to propose that they
remain on the island until morning, as he was quite sleepy,
and was not a bit afraid of Indians. Kidd told him they
must leave the island if possible, and that the Indians had by
no means given up the pursuit.

Mr. Sedgewick took Thurston by the arm, and drew ee.
aside, Se

“ Herbert,” said he, “I want to speak a few words to you
in privite. Is my daughter Vinnie well?”

She was in perfect health, I believe, when I left Crum-
per’s,” answered the young man ee

“ She believes me dead ?”

“And has for more than a year.”

“Poor thing! Dues she live with her uncle ?”

“She does.”

“JT fear he doesn’t treat her as he should. T have always

deemed my brother-in-law a man of little principle. How-

ever, I hope I may take her from him before many days.

 
ee By the way, Herbert, I once gave you permission to address

  

 

Vinnie on the subject of —”
“TJ have never availed myself’ of the privilege so kindly
granted me,” said Herbert, dropping his eyes in confusion.

“ Changed your mind, 1 presume ?”

“Never, sir! I love your daughter now as I did when
you were at home, and I can never love her less.”

“Indeed? Why, then, if I may ask, have you not told
her of your love ?”

Herbert hesitated a moment, and then answered boldly ;
“Mr, Hamilton seemed to guess that such was my inten.
tion,” ‘

Mr. Sedgewick did not understand.

“What has Mr. Hamilton to do with this?” he inquired.

“Immediately after you were gone, sir, and reported dead,

-your brother-in-law came to me one day, and astonished me —

by asserting that I was in love with his neice. He said that,
as her friend and mine, he could not allow me to address

her on the subject, although he was very sorry, etc. I asked

him why? - He then coldly informed me that Vinnie and his
son, Dick, were engaged to be married.”

“Its a lie! a base lie!” cried Mr. Sedgewick, suddenly
flying into a passion. ‘“ Vinnie never did like her cousin,
She hated him, and I know she would rather die than become
his wife. It is only ascheme of Hamilton’s to.get my money.

-Unprincipled scoundrel! Bat, Herbert,” he added, instantly

growing cool again, “ do. you know you were followed from

 

Cramper’ 's Station by Dick Hamilton and another person ?”
“fam well aware of it.” c :
“My nephew,”; be continued, “came rushing into the

cave, just as this man, Kidd, and I were preparing to leave

it. I recognized him—he was wild with rage—he shot at

me, but we made our .escape unharmed, and left him there.
Up to this minute I have not been able to understand his
actions, and have not had an opportunity to speak to Kidd
about it. But itis all plain to me now. In the event of

my resurrection, so to speak; the young wretch sees Vin-

nie taken from him by one -whose right can not be gain-
sayed ; therefore, his object is to prevent my return home.”
“That is the conclusion I have arrived at,” said Herbert,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
  

« but I cannot conceive how he found out the Seas of. our
expedition, unless he heard me talking to Wapawah—? —

At this point the conversation was interrupted by a scream
of terror from Tony Crane.

   

CHAPTER XVI.
ONE ENEMY LESS.

Tony had been directed by Kidd to go to the other side of
the island, and keep watch there until relieved. He had
walked away in obedience to the injunction, but, in less than
a minute after he had disappeared among the willow trees,
he set up a cry that could have proceedéd from nothing but’
fright, and caine dashing back headlong to the spot where he
had left his comparious. Terrified half out of his wits, the
poor fellow rushed blindly down tbe sandy slope, ran plump
against Kirby Kidd and fell backward. . He regained his*feet
with great nimblencss, and cast a series of hurried glances
around him, with eyes as round and shining as a pair of
moons, :

“Mold me into buck-shot!” ejaculated the scout, uncer-
tain whether to be amused or alarmed. “ What in the name
of George Washington’s shoe-buckles has give you sich a skeey ?

: ~ Speak, blast you !” f

Tony pointed toward the center of the island, and moved |

be his lips. At first not a sound escaped them, but at length he
managed to articulate, in a very weak voice: :
“Twas thar ’mongst the willers. Ivs as dark thar’ as—
as—a stuck of black cats. JI was movin’ along kinder slow
like, when sunkthin’ as cold as ice brushed by me.”

“ Bah !” growled the ranger, impatiently.

_ “It’s true as preachin’, ev’ry word on't,” protested Tony,
with chattering teeth. “ Whatever the dern thing was, it
passed right in-front of me, and so close that it tetched. — It
was awful cold, like a — ghost !”

From this it was evident that he was more inclined to’

 

 

   
    
  
 
 
 
   

 

 

 
   
 

 

 

 
Yelieve the object a spirit from the dead than a mortal
enemy.
- © Did yer see it?” inquired the ranger.

“No, I think not—I reckon not—that is, I know I didn’t,
"cause it’s so fetched dark I couldn’t see beyond the eend of
my nose.” ;

Herbert laughed. Kidd chuckled, and said:

“T reckon the spook warn’t any more’n the limb of a
tree |”

“Gosh dang it! do you think I’ma fool! It had ee
cause I felt em as it passed, and besides that I heerd its.
footsteps.”

Did cent:

“Tord, yes; and I heerd the bushes rattle as it-run’d away,
It made more noise nor a ginewine ghost, I s’pect, but dog
my cats if it felt much like a human bein’. It didn’t skeer
me, though. I jest kim back to tell you’bout it. Good Lord!
there ’tis now !”

As he uttered this last exclamation, Tony jumped behind
Mr. Sedgewick, as if his own personal safety was his only
thought.

They all turned their eyes in the direction he was looking,
To their surprise they saw a dark, moving figure, which
seemed to lave just emerged from thé willow grove, and
which, as they lookel, was running across the open space to-
ward the water, as if it were intent upon plunging in and
swimming away. /

Their eyes had scarcely alighted upon this object, when.
there was a flash—a bang—and Kirby. Kidd's rifle was empty.
“At the same instant there was a shriek of mortal agony —
long, loud and unearthly—and then the little dark figure was
seen lying motionless on the sand,

“That settles his hash,” observed the scout, as he coolly
blew the smoke from his gun; “and I calc’late he ain’t an
Injun, either.”

They ran forward to look at the scont’s victim, the scout
slowly bringing up in the rear, loading his gun as he went.

“ By heavens!” ejaculated Herbert, bending over the body, -

; “Whats the matter?” asked Kidd, carelessly, as he ap:
proached,

 
  

 

  

st Matter te fetal Herbert, “ Why, this man is no In-

dian.” oe :

Oo Baieh <2

4“ No.” "

“Then he must be a pale-face.”

“That is what he is.”

“ Knowed it.”

“What! you knew he was a white man, and yet shot
him ?” ;

' “Skeercely that. Knowed he warn’t no red-skin when he
Jet out his death-yell. Don’t know the chap, I s’pose ?”

“Don’t 1? Why, he is no other than Crispin Quiggs,
the dwarf!”

Sure enough, the little short body lying so still at their
feet weltering in its life-blood, which stained the coarse gar--
ments and clotted the gray hair, was that of Crispin Quiggs.
After parting with his friend, the diminutive wretch had
joined the Indians, subsequently volunteering to swim over
to the island and reconnviter. His object in doing this, in-
stead of being to further that of the savages, had been to seek
an opportunity (o shoot Richard Sedzewick But in this at-
tempt he had been happily foiled, had received his just de-
serts at the hands of those against whom he was working,
and, as the old scout coolly remarked, the devil had his
due.

In his death-spasm the dwarf had turned over on his back.
in which position he now lay, limp and motionless, never os
move again of himself. The -face—ugly, cadaverous little
face that it was—was upturned to the sky, aud was a horri-
ble sight to look upon, with its natural ugliness enhanced by
the fallen jaw, the ghastly, grinning teeth, and the staring,
glassy eyes, not to mention that the wholé was smeared with
blood and brains.

“Ts he dead?” whispered Tony, peeping under Kidd’s
arm.

“Dead?” chuckled the scout, kicking the lifeless form
“You ain’t acquainted with this shooter, or you wouldn't ax
sich a question as that. Reckon you'd be dead, too, ef Ey f
Kidd should draw bead on you?”

- “Needn’t trouble yerself to do it—’ll fake yer word fer :

 

 

 

 

  
 
    
   
   
    
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

 
  
 

 

‘8 | RED-KNIFE, THE WYANDOTTE; on,
it,” said Tony, drawing back at the very thought of such a
thing. |

“ But we hain’t got no time to stand hyur palaverin’,” said
Kidd, beginning to speak rapidly. “ This skunk made a deal
of noise when he kicked the bucket, to say nothin’ of the 3
bark of my shootin’-iron, and them reds over yender knows aes
they’re one man less jist as well as we do. Now you may eS
stake the ha’r on your head they’re goin to do sunkthin’ in ~
the twinklin’ of a bed-post, so it’s my opine we'd better take
to the boats while we’ve got boats to take to.”

?

 

“ Willit not be ungenerous to leave Wapawah ?” said Her- -
bert. i
‘Tain’t a bit likely we could do him any good ef we x
should stay,” returned Kidd. “‘ Me and the chief understand Sak

each. other parfectly. We've been in jest-sich corners as
this afore, and we know when irs prudent,to wait fur one |
another. Ef he could talk to us now, he’d tell us to save
ourselves and he’d save hisself, cause ef he’s in a diffikilty
you may bet yer life he don’t want our help.”
. None of them objected to the ranger’s course of action, and
- jndeed none of them thought of doing so, since they .were
quite willing that he should be the leader of the party.
Leaving the diminutive corpse lying on the sand, they has-
tened to the spot where the two canoes were lying side by
side, at the water’s edge. They were about to embark, when
Kidd put an end to the proceedings by holding up his hand
with a low “’sh! listen!” In an instant they were silent
and listening. Then a soft plash was heard in the water, and
a continued rippling sound as of somebody or something
swimming. Probably an Indian scout, coming to see how
many whites were on the island.
Soon a dark, ball-like object was seen coming toward them,
as if floating on the water. Kidd’s rifle clicked ominonsly.
Before the others, however, could guess that the object was a ey
human head, a big Indian suddenly rose into view and leaped ee
out upon the land directly in front of them. Herbert, being se
‘nearest, clubbed his gun. The savage recoiled, and threw up- ae
“both bands, while Kidd, with remarkable quickness, seized
the uplifted weapon of the young man,.and arrested the blow.
The Indian was Wapawah the Wyandotte. Se ie

 

 

 

 
 
   
 

THE ARROW-MAKER OF THE MIAMIS

  
 

CHAPTER XVIE-

A JONAH ABOARD,

  
 

Kipp was first to make the discovery that the Indian was
their friend, Wapawah, and tie latter owed his life, perhaps,
to the rapger’s kecn-sightedness, and bis astonishing celerity
in preventing the descent of the clubbed rifle. Bat for this, 5
Herbert would undoubtedly have felled his benefactor to the
earth. However, this was a matter of too little importance to ‘
be allowed to dwell long on the mind at such a time as this,
and the chicf's safe arrival was a source of so much pleasure
to his friends that they could not afford to think seriously of
his narrow escape in landing among them. ;

Rapidly, and with characteristic brevity, Wapawah then
gave an account of his experience after being left in the pris-
oner’s Chamber in. the cavern. He related how Hamilton
had ese iped by hiding in a niche; bow Quiggs had proved $
hiniself-a friend of the savages by, mingling with them ; how 3
‘s he, himself, had deceived his enemies by thrusting himself
amony tiem, and passing as a genuine Miimi; how he had
accompanied the party that followed the trail to the river,
etc, etc.

“Thar !” exclaimed Kidd, looking triumphantly at Herbert
and Mr. Sedgewick. “I told you he’d slide out of the diffi.
culty as slick as greased lightnin’ ’thout any help from us.”

“De dwarf come over here to scout. Heard him. screrm

 
   
      
 

 

 

 

 

ee You-shoot ?” said the Indian, more affirmatively than inter
Mao arogatively:
: The ranger chuckled quietly, and pointed toward the spot
<a where Crispin Quiggs had fallen.

“Come too close to my shooter,” he .observed, with care- <
Se less humor. “ Put a winder in his upper story, like.”
bea © Miamis much angry—Wapawah much glad,” said ihe

Wyandotte. +“ Me come to spy round little—see how any. =:

       

whites on de island.”
“ Of course you'll go back now, ead report faithfully.”
ature a pace. of Saasisiielas neuea es revealed itself,

“Wal, we’re all hyur, now,” said Kidd, “and that’s no
1eed to tarry. Ef we don’t leave this place purty suddint,
‘the chances are ’at we’ll never leave it.” «

Wapawah agreed with him.

“Kidd speaks true,” he said, hurriedly, “Must go now.

No wait one—two—t’ree minute. ow /”

Tm a little juberous "bout one thing,” said Kidd, hesita-

_ tingly. “It’s jist likely the red cusses kin see us when we
start. ’Tain’t very dark, though thar’s no moon. What do
you think, chief 2”

Thus appeated to, the Wyandotte ran his keen, calculating
eyes across the water, to the dark, wooded shore where

the Miamis were anxiously awaiting his return—and_ back
again.

-“Miamis got sharp eyes,” he said. “Dey may see. US,
Must be berry great careful. “Ugh !”

“Wal, has yer got any thing to perpose ?”

* Only one Ving can do.”

“ Name it.”

* Must take de canoes to udder side of island,” hastily ut-
tered the savage. ‘Den de island be ’tween us and enemies ;
“dey no can see us; den we git in de canoes; den we float

down de ribber close to de udder bank. Injun no can see
us, den.” :

“ But maybe thar’s reds on that side of the river, too.”

The Wyandotte shook his head.

“No Injun dere,” he asserted, confidently.

“How do you know that ?”

— €Ush! Wapawah ’mong de Injuns ober dere only min-_
ute ago, Wapawah know what dey doin’. None on udder.

side ob ribber now—will be soon. Some went up de ribber
to cross ober. We must be much quick.”

This was enough. Wapawah’s plan of action was esteem-
ed by all the most practicable that could be devised for the ~~
occasion. In fact, they reposed such confidence in hig. pro-—
“verbial cunning and prudence, and his thorough knowledge
of the enemies he hid to contend with, that they were ready
to follow him implicitly in any thing he proposed.

 

 
  
   
   
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
   
 
 
   
   
  
  
   
  
   
    
 
    
 
  

Tastead of getting into the canoes, and coasting around the
isiand to the opposite side, they thought of a quicker and. ,
safer mode of performing the circumition—or of making a —
circumition unnecessary. The vessels being both constructed —
of bark, they were consequently light and-easy to handle, and —
it was Kidd’s suggestion that they take them upon thei
shoulders and carry them across the island. Wapawah’'s
craft was much the smallest of the two, and lifting it upon
his shoulder he walked away; while the ranger and Herbert
carried the other.
Passing through the willow grove, they soon came out up-
on a grassy bank, Here they launched the vessels,
“ You'll take the lead, I s’puse?” said the ranger to War
pawah.
“Ugh !” replied the Indian.
“ Jest as yer did comin’ up ?” ;
“ Ugh |”
“All right. It’s the best way, I reckon. But you'll have to
take charge of one of these chaps. My shell won't carry ’em
all, ’'m afeard.”
The Wyandotte selected Richard Sedgewick as the one to
share his canoe. Mr. Sedgewick was quite nervous now, lest
lis hopes had been awakened only to be shattered again for-
ever, but he took his seat in the Indian’s canoe without a
word, though he was all impatience to be off The Wyan-
dotte leaped in also, and took up the paddle. Kidd, Thars-
ton and Grane then embarked, the paddles were dipped, and
they glided out into the stream as noiselessly as a funeral
cortege. :
At first they bore toward the shore, but, when they were
within a few feet of it, they turned to the left and floated
quietly down-stream. Wapawah and Mr. Sedyewick were a
little distance in advance, the former's 5 piercing eyes flashing
hither and thither through the darkness, and his quick ears
hearing every sound, and divining ils cause, with an acute-
ness that was incredible. Kid, who had control of the oth-
er bark, kept the leading one in sight, and continually under
his eye. It loomed up like a dim chadow in front, and the
cher followed faithfully in its wake. In a minute or two —
the island was out of sight, and was being left far behinst,

 

    

=

 

   
 
 
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
   

 

 

  
   
    

and then, believing they had hoodwinked the savages, the fu-
gitives ventured to increase their speed a little. The paddles
- were handled with the utmost care, however, and as little
noise as possible was made in dipping them, for they well
knew thit they were by no means out of danger, as yet. In-
deed, tliey deemed it quite probable that they were followed.
No idle conversations weré indulged in; a word now and
then was exchanged between them, but in soft whispers.
Twice during their journey that night Kidd paused in his
work with a sudden start, and sat for a short time in a list-
ening attigede. On each of these occasions he asserted that
he heard a footstep on the shore nearest them,~but on each
oceasion remarked, as he resumed his paddle : sane

“Tt mought ’a’ been some sort of an animal, bowsomever.”

And this his companions concluded it was, since they con-

_ tinued their way unmolested, and without again hearing any
thing like an indication that they were pursued. <

The fugitives had accomplished perhaps four miles of their
journey down the river, and were beginning to congratulate
themselves on their fortunate escape, when an incident oc-
curred that showed them they were still surrounded by the
most appalling dangers. Ever since leaving the island they
had kept near the west shore, but now, from some cause or
other, Wapawah led then even closer to the bank than they
had hitherto ventured. All at once, the limb of a tree struck
Tony Crane a pretty smart blow in the face. It was so sud-
den as to startle him out of his wits, and he fell back in the
boat with a scream that made the woods fairly ring, with
nothing in hig mind but Indians and tomahawks.

“Murder! Help! I’m cut all to pieces!” he cried, atthe .
top of his voice. “ Pick me up—qnick! Tm dyin’! Oh,
Lord! Tell Sam Ragsap to take good keer of them boots—”

Before he could utter another word Kirby Kidd seized him
by the throat, aud almost cloked him to death in his indig-
nation, s a

“Shut yer head, you blamed fool!” he hissed, fairly trem-
bling with rage. “Shut yer head, or by heavens Til: twist

yer weasand cl’ar into! You're vot huri—’twas the limb of a
tree as struck you. But you will be hurt, ’caue you've gone
and told the Injuns whar’ we are. Open yer mouth ag’in,

*

 
     
     
   
   
   
 
     
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
   
 

=e

 

 

 
     
        
       
       
 
     
     
   
   
      
ati sinelli § aby. and “may I be shot ef : dont chuck hs

overboard !”

To change the motion of his paddle, oa give st a long
backward sweep, was, for Wapawah, the work of an instant.
In the same instant, almost, Lis canoe was alongside that of —
Kirby Kidd, :

The Wyandotte, when eid a faicitea with the cause of
the disturbance, made no’ reply, except to bestow upon the
trembling Tony a look.of frowning displeasure.

Just then a prolonged whoop—faint and far away, but so
distinct that there was no mistaking it—came to thai ears:
from some point up the river.

“Thar!” muttered Kidd; “that sthe result of his cater-
waulia’—”

“Sh! Listen!” interrupted Wapawah, in a whisper. | “Be

still, Don’t breathe. Somebody comin’.” F

°

COHSASP Tea Xe Vel El,
A DAY IN CONCEALMENT.

A srmauruy footstep was heard among the dry leaves, and
every tongue was instantly silent. Scarcely, however, had
they hushed their conversation, when the author of the foot-
step made its appearance in the shape of a human figure. At
first its shape was rendered uncertain by the daik forest in
the background, and more'resembled a wavering shadow, but
as it came on down the river-bank, they were soon able to
distinguish it from other objects, and to decide that it was
nothing more nor less than an Indian. They remained as stil
as death, faintly hoping that, unless they should make noise
enough to attract notice, they would remain unseen. The
savage crept ey and stealtbily down the bank till he
_ reached the water's edge. Here he paused and stood erect,
_ Asif he had no object in view, except to reach the brink of
the. river, he remained standing there as motionless us. the
black tree-trunks behind him, preset looking at nothing,

sha? E Po

 
‘was turned.
; After a few minutes of suspense, Wapawah leaned over
and brought his mouth close to Kirby Kidd's ear.

“Miami warrior,” he whispered. “ He see us—can’t help
gee us—gv'l eyes on us now—watch us like hawk. Must not
jet bim live—Wapawabh must kill him with tomahawk—not
wait a minute—if wait he give signal to udders.” —

Kidd replied by a nod of approval. Ne had no sooner
done so than he was conscious of a quick movement on the part
of Wapawah. He heard something whiz through the’ air with
deadly: velocity, and saw it flash ee a meteor as it dar ted by
him,

Instantly there was a low cry, followed by a deep groan,
and the Indian on shore sunk to the ground, with the Wyan-
dotte’s tomahawk buried to the helve in his brain.

“Good !’? muttered the ranger, as Wapawah resumed his
seat and snatched up his paddle. “That war well done.
The skunk war goin’ fur to give a yell, but bis voice fuiled
him.”

“Ush! follow me! Quick!” interrupted the chief.

As he spoke, his canoe darted forward like a shot. The
other, propelled by the ranger, received a sudden impetus that
sent it skimming with-the speed of a fish after the first.

But what was their astonishment when they saw Wapawah
turn deliberately into shore, instead of continuing his course
down-stream, Without a single attempt to avoid the seeming
catastrophe, he dasbed unhesitatingly toward the bank, as if

eareless of the consequences... In a moment the little canoe,
with ils two occupants, seemed to blend with the thick ‘un-
dergrowth that bordered the river, and entirely disappeared.

Even Kirby Kidd was nonplussed by this unexpected
maneuver, and declared if the leader were anybody but
Wapawab he should think twice kefore following. As it
was, he did not hesitate, but headed straight toward tbe spot

where the other vessel had melted from view.

But on reaching the spot, Wapawah and his companion
; _were nowhere to be seen, The three men looked inquiringly

ut one another. The scout, in a state of incipient vexation,
_ was on the point of giving a signal, when a strong hand was

 
. thrust ris ffom some invisible sauleat oe a familiar voice
spoke to them: :

“Stoop down. Quick! Den’t make noise.”

The command was mechanically obeyed. Then the hae
seized the gunwale of the canoe, and instantly they felt the

overhanging bushes sweeping their shoulders as they were
drawn in under the bank. When they raised their heads
they were in total darkness, They had been drawn back
about fifteen feet under a long, low, shelving rock, and found
‘themselves in one of the safest and bandiest hiding-places
imaginable. A person on the river would not suspect. ils ex-
istence, even in the day-time. :

“Mold me into buck-shot !’ exclaimed the ranger, one
ingly. “ When did you diskiver this place, chief ?” ,

“ De last time I here ’fore dis,” was the reply. “ Miami —
on trail. Me find dis place—hide—Miami no catch.”

“Blowed ef you can’t allus find places to hide, when ‘no-
body else kin. I reckon Natur’ never got up.a "cuter red than—
you. You're sbarper nor a steel-trap. But what’s your ob- ey
ject in comin’ in hyur now? Mought slidc vn duwn we river
till davlight.” : ee

“Den find no place to hide,” sald the Indian. “Night —

~ nearly gone—day comin’—best stay here.” . ra

“Tn course you're right; you allus are. But we'll have S
“Jay byur in these shells a good many hours.”

“Yes,” conceded the Indian; “must stay all day os :
Must not go out till night come ag’in. Den we go home.”

As a matter of course, it was any thing but a pleasant re-—
flection, that they were to sit there in the canoes the livelong
day—sleepy, and tired, and wet as they were—but it did not

- seem so dreadful when they remembered that their ee alter-

native was death. ie

‘ The night passed away at last, and the eheartal light of.

another day flooded the earth. Very litile of its light, how
ever, penetrated the fugitives’ hiding-place. It was still dark
there, though they could see each other now, and the dark-
ness was not nearly so impressive as it had been in the night.

It was now discovered that the entrance to this nook was se:
cured by a dense growth of bushes, banging so low that the
dipped their heads in the water, and veiling from prying eyes

 
RED-KNIFE, THE WYANDOTTE; OR, —

what prying eyes would otherwise have explored. Shortly
after day-break a sound was heard out on the water, which
was very like the dip of paddles.. Wapawah ventured to the
entrance, and looked out.. The-others watched him anxiously.
He soon came back, with the information that a canoe full of
Indians had just pas8ed down the river. ‘This was ample
proof that they were followed, and that.the most prudential
course for them to pursue was to remain quietly in their ce-
cluded retreat until they should again be favored by the

- friendly gloom of night. . The hours dragged by slowly enough
to our friends, sitting silently there in the little bark vessels,
and Tony was quite firm in his opinion that two days had
somehow got into one. Fortunately, they did not want for
food, as there were provisions enough in the party to last all
that day and-the next.

In the afternoon the Wyandotte announced his intention of
going out to take observations. He said he would probably
not be back before night, but would certainly return in time’
to start at the proper time. Before going, he briefly explained
a signal to Kidd, by which the latter was to be called to his
assistance if necessary ; but the rest were not to leave their
places under any consideration whatever. When the Indian
was gone, Kidd told his three companions that if they could
catch a little sleep while they were waiting, they had better
do it, since they were sadly in need of it, and would not. have
an opportunity to close their eyes during the coming night.
He said he had long ago grown accustomed to loss of sleep,

and did not care to accompany them to the land of dreams ;
adding, that if he beard Wapawah’s signal while they slept,
he would wake them before leaving. Situated as they were,
it was no easy matter to get into a suitable position to win’
the spirit of slumber. But they managed it after several in-
_ effectual attempts, and as they were all. pretty well worn out,
_ Mr. Sedgewick, Herbert and Tony were soon sleeping soundly.
The scout alone kept bis eyes open. He sat upright, with his
gun in hand, listening intently for the signal agreed upon,
hoping it would not be given, yet ready to answer it in a-mo-~
ent, if it should be. Thus the long afternoon passed away.
: AL last the light faded, and darkness began to setile again
over all. Still the three. men slept. All of a sudden Tony

 
THE ARROW-MAKER OF THE MIAMIS

Grane started up wilh » terrified scream, which awakened the
other sleepers, and stared wildly about! Quick as thought
Kidd had him by the throat: we

“« Be still, you cussed idiot!” he growled. “ Be still, or P11
choke you to death? You allus have to yell out when you
ought to be the stillest, Just the very minute afore you’ etre. a
that yell I-heerd a footstep right over our heads.” —

“Gvod Lord! You didn’t though ?” gasped Tony.

CHAPIE ER Sr
a PERILOUS JOURNEY. cae

Jusr then a noise’ was heard among the bushes that over-
hung the water—a rustling, crackling noise, as of a heavy
body moving among tkem. They looked in that direction,
and saw the bushes shaking. Presently a black object
was lowered from the bank above, and dropped noiselessly
into the water. In a moment more the signal agreed upon
between Kidd andthe Wyandotte was given, and Wapawah

~ was among them. E ime fee ee

“Somebody holler! Must been him,” he said, touching —
Tony. ;

«Yes, Wapawah,” said Tony, “to be honest with you, it —
were me as gin that ’ere screech, but I didn’t go fur to do it, —
nohow. I was dreamin’, Iwas. I couldn’t help it anywise.

Didu’t mean to skeer these fellers so bad, but they shouldu’t

be so skeery. If 2 hain’t got no curridge ’tain’t my
fault.”
4 ise !” growled the 1éabin, “you no courage, 1m
squaw.” Y -
“J say, chief,” muttered Kidd, leaning toward him, “is it
dark enough outside to be on our way ?” ;
“Soon be,” was the laconic response.
“Cause we've got to go a long ways to-night, afore we
can be sure that the pursuit’s given up,” continued Kidd,
~ “and we wants to start ’arly, onless thar’s reds layin’ round

 
_ RED-KNIFE, THE WYANDOTTE; oR,

; : i "
in the vicinity, waitin’ fur us to come out. What have you
Yarnt to day ?”

“No reds near,” answered the Wyandotte.

About half an hour after this, it was decided that the time
had come when they shonld venture forth from tacir conceal-
ment, and resume their homeward journey.

So once more they went out upon the river, and glided si-
lently away on ‘its broad, placid bosom. Wapawah took the
lead, just-as beshad done before, with the rescued captive in

his canoe, while the others remained a little distance behind,
following faithfully in his wake, and keeping him constantly

under their eyes. It was a dark night—darker, in fact, than
the preceding one—but Kidd said it was not dark enough to
make it possible to run into danger by going unconsciously
too near the shore, nor to lose their way by blundering into
the mouths of tributaries. They kept as nearly in the mid-
die of the stream as possible, leisurely assisting the current in |
the propulsion of the canoes, and keeping their eyes and ears
Open unceasingly.
_ No enemies were seen, and. no suspicious sounds were
heard, during the first hour of their journey. At the end of
that time they came upon a scene which Wapawah and Kidd
had been looking for all along, but which, to the rest, was
entirely unexpected. In rounding an abrupt bend in the
river, they suddenly came in range of a bright light, which
flashed-in their faces with startling effect. Right. ahead of

- them, on a point of land that projected several yards out from
the main land, a large fire was burning. Apparently, a doz-
en or more Indians were gathered around this fire, variously
engaged in eating, drinking, smoking, etc. This sight was so

: unexpected and alarming to Tony, that be was startled into

_ offering the suggestion that they turn back immediately. But

his suggestion was not heeded, and he did not dare to repeat

it, though he was terrified beyond measure by this immediate
and appalling danger... Wapawal, did not stop nor look back

_—Kidd did not expect him to do either. The Indian, however,
began to manage his paddle differently, causing his craft to

_ gradually near that shore opposite the fire, and Kide followed

_ in tbe same manner. ‘They were soon gliding along close to

the dark side of the river. Still the keen eyes of the Indians

 
might died Getecied them, had they “ooked ay i
direction. The careless dip of a paddle, or any slight noise,
would, in all probability, have been the signal for their own
destruction, but as these instruments were in the skilled hands —
of Wapawah and Kidd, and as Herbert held his hand over |
Tony’s mouth, by the scouts directions, no noise was 006
and the perilous passage was safely accomplished. s
In a few moments the fire was behind them, and the faut
tives once more floated along with the current, while their
enemies were none the wiser. The greatest danger was now
passed, and they continued on their way with lighter hearts
Not long after passing the dangerous point mentioned, they
drifted out of the Miami river into the broad Ohio. Up to
this time the amount of labor required to propel the canoes
was very trifling, but now they must go up-stream instead of
down, breasting the strong current of a larger river, and thus —

the work was increased to such an extent that they found it

necessary to take turns at the -paddles. “Up the Ohio they
_ went, steadily and unmolested, toward Crumper’s Station, —
still far away. It bad seemed to them that the weary
night would last forever, but just as the ever-wise Tony had
decided that ififi@ally was endless, it broke. The darkness
crept away to hollow trees and caverns, ‘and a flood of golden
light gladdened the earth, The sun rose in a cloudless sky, —
smiling and genial, and the fugilives hailed the glorious morn-
ing with hearts full of hope and gratitude. Kirby Kidd and
the Wyandotte'held a hurried consullation, agreeing—since —
there was no “sign” in that vicinity—that they might safely
continue their journey under the light of the day, and by —
water, which was really the most exposed manner of travel- —
ing. :
And so they went on and on, without even disembarking =

to eat their morning meal, whioh they dispatched as they

- went.

: About three hours after dawn, as they were still moving
‘steadily up the Obio, arid when nature was holding analmost ——

a  Cerenlage silence, they heard a cry—a long, loud, piercing —
-@>, echoing and re-echoing on the air around them!

Nt was the cry of a woman, and of a woman in distress.

4

 
- RED-KNIFE, THE WYANDOTTE; OR,

Co AASP IO Rc XS.
EXEUNT OMNES,

Tu fugitives were startled by the scream, all the more

-thatit evidently came froma woman. It rung through the for

est arches, and through the air above them and on every side, as

if it were a knell from some doomed-and invisible spirit.

They looked at one another in blank inquiry, and then turned
their faces toward the shore whence the sound seemed to pro-
ceed.

But before they could speculate on the probable’cause of
the singular disturbance, the cause of it appeared to their as-
tonished eyes. :

A female figure, with nai uir streaming in the wind, and in

, every way a perfect picture of distress, suddenly burst from

the shadows of the forest, and came running down the slop-
ing bank to the river. She had almost run into the water

before she stopped, and then she began to w her hands _

wildly, and implore our friends, in. piteous accents, to come

ashore and save her!

Mold me into buck-shot if ’tain’t a white woman!” ejacu-

—Jated Kirby Kidd.

7

“My God!” cried Mf. Sedgewick, huskily; “look, Herbert,

look! is it my—my daughter ?”

Herbert Thurston started, and turned pale.
“By Heaven, you are right!” he exclaimed. “Run in to

-shore—quick! That woman is Vinnie Setgewick /”

“Good Lard, you don’t tell me!” cried Tony Crane, jump-

~ ing up so suddenly that the canoe was well-nigh overturned.

Before another word could be uttered, and before the course
of the canoes could be changed, another person appeared on

the scene. An Indian, gigantic in stature and nimble as a

panther, sprung from the forest at the point where the girl
had first appeared, and bounded toward tbe spot’ where she
was standing! She saw him coming, and sought to fly, but
two or three long bounds brought the Ingian to her side, and

 
SGitcre she had eco. a dozen steps, aie ed her by both. sei
dragging her back toward the wood. ;
; “felp! help!” she screamed, struggling to free herself =,
Herbert! Herbert! save me! Oh, save me?” 2
Just then the crack of a rifle rent the air. They saw the
‘Indian stop suddenly, release the maiden and clutch his breast.
with both hauls, reel, stagger, give vent toa piercing shriek
of mortal pain, and fall forward on his face ! ;
The unerring band of Wapawah, the Wyandotte, had sent +
the leaden messenger of death true to its aim. /
The canoes were now whirled round by a single sweep of
the paddles, and sent flying toward the shore. They all sus-
pected that more savages were concealed in the wood, but
they were ready to incur any risk for Vinnie Sedgewick’s sake,
- whose presence in that particular place was a mystery to them.
The girl seemed partially stupefied by. the sudden death of

her dusky captor, and-for awhile-could do nothing but stand -

and stare at his prostrate form. But when the voyngers
landed, she appeared to recover lrerself, and comprehending at ~
once that they were her deliverers, ran to meet them with a
-giad ery. cadets
‘ We should litte to linger on the joyful meeting of father ns
and daughter, if we were capable of doing it justice, but —
feeling incompetent, we refrain. At first she stood pale and

-trembling before the parent she had long thought dead, gaz-

ing at him asif she doubted the evidence of her own senses. —
Then he called her by name, and she fell fainting into his

arms; but his warm embraces, his kisses and tears, soon re-—
stored her to herself, and when all was explained to-her, from
beginning to end, she Jaid ber head on her “father’s protecting —

bosom, and wept tears of ineffable | joy. She could not find —

words to thank Herbert sufficieatly, but blessed him instead, —
and told him God alone could reward him for what he had
done, while his heart beat quicker than it had ever beat before

and lie blushed to the roots of his hair, and begged her ae to

mention it.
‘It was a happy reunion, cand for awhile nobody bestowed a
thought upon the slain savage lying so near them. How
much longer he would have remained unnoticed cannot be
told, had not their attention been attracted toward him by a

 
RUD-KNIFE, THE WYANDOTTE; OR, |

_groan proceeding from that direction, They looked at him,
and, to their surprise, saw that he was still alive and had
turned over on his back. His dark, expressive eyes were
turned upon them, full of eloquent pleading, as if asking
them to gather round him and hear his dying words.

In compliance with the mute request, they all moved to-
ward him, willing to minister to his wants in his last moments.

' But what was their amazethent when, upon a closer scrutiny
of his face, they discovered that the Indian was not an Indi-
an, but Dick Hamilton diseuised !

In was a startling discovery, and Vinnie was no less sur-
prised than the rest, for she had not recognized her captor
until this moment, when the supposed savage quietly wet his

“hand and rubbed the paint from his face. Then Herbert,
Tony and Mr. Sedgewick, started back and exclaimed, simul-
taneously, “ Dick Hamilton!” Yes, it was Dick Hamilton,
In the disguise furnished by Crispin Quiggs, he had repaired
to Crumper's Station, captured his fair cousin while she was
gathering flowers in the wood, and stifling her screams, had
made off with her. But on the beautiful morning, as they.
were near the river, she had caught sight of the voyagers, and
had seen that they were people of her own eelor. With a
scream she had broken away from her captor, and run down
to the brink of the river, as we have seen, imploring the
whites to come ashore and save her.

As soon as she recognized her cousin, all her own wrongs
were forgotten, and sitting down onthe ground, she tenderly
pillowed his head on her lap. *This unmerited treatment

“seemed to abash him, and he closed his eyes.

“Vinnie,” he murmured. “ Vinnie.”

“Yes, cousin!” .she answered, softly, as with gentle hands
she smoothed his hair back from his brow.

“Forgive me, Vinnie; forgive me, if youcan. This demon,
which prompted me to do you so great a wrong, is no longer
a part of me, and it will be like your sweet nature a forgive

me; for I am dying now, Vinnie—I am dying now?

“You are forgiven,” said the girl, as the tears began to
course down her cheeks; “but why do you talk of death?
Let father look at your wound, and dress it. It may be
nothing serious.” °

 
THE ARROW-MAKER OF THE MIAMIS,

Mr. Sedgwick dropped upon his knees beside his nephew,
with a hope that something might yet be done; but the
wounded man waved him off, and shook his head.

“JY thank you,” he said, “ but it’s useless. Ina few minutes
I will be gone. Uncle, I shot at you in the cave; can you
forgive me ?” :

“Don’t speak of it, "Dick, my boy,” returned his uncle,
soothingly; “there is not one here who remembers the past
against you now.”

“Tr was all through love for Vinnie,’ he murmured, as if
speaking to himself. ‘ My father, as her guardian, had given
her to me, but I knew her father would never have consented,
had he been alive. I overheard. a conversation between

- Thurston and Wapawah. They were going in search of the
lost man. A demon possessed me. Procuring the services of
Quiggs, the dwarf, I followed them for the purpose of frus-
trating their plans. Where is the dwarf ?” é
“Gone under,” replied Kirby Kidd, as the rest remained
silent. “Shot him squar’ through the upper story.”
; Hamilton was silent for some minutes after this, his lips
moving as if in prayer. Then, opening his eyes, he looked
at every one of them separately, saying, each time he removed
his gaze from one to another, “ Good-by.”
“ Vinnie,” will you kiss me?” he said, unable now to raise
his voice above a whisper: “ Will you kiss me, Vinnie?” _

She did so, weeping quietly. His face brightened then,

and a few minutes later he breathed his last.

They buried him where he had fallen. He had died peni-

_tent,and neither time nor pains were spared in performing
this last tribute of respect to his mortal remains, and in mak-
ing it all that could have been expected by him.

: One year ago, on the banks of the Ohio, the tree bearing —
the following inscription remained unmolested: “ RicHarp
-§. Hammon, killed and buricd on this spot, October 14,
1783.” In all probability the tree is still standing, as we have
heard nothing to the contrary. si
The little party reached home in good time, and were cor-
-dially welcomed by their friends. In fact, on the. evening

after their arrival, the block-house of Cramper’s Station was_
brilliantly illuminated for a_grand social gathering, in honor

 
ao

RED-KNIFE, THE WYANDOTTE,

of Richard Sedgewick’s return. There was music and dane-
ing and hilarity to the highest degree, and ever after the peo-
ple of the Station remembered that night as one of the
pleasantest of their lives. To cap the climax, they got up an
impromptu wedding, and Herbert Thurston and Vinnie Sedge-
wick were the happy couple—her own and her father’s con-
sent having been obtained at the same time. Of course,
Tony was vastly astonished at this proceeding, and didn’t see
how in creation Vinnie was going to marry both of them,
until some one good -naturedly reminded him that she would
probably never marry him. :

Kirby Kidd and Wapawah, the Wyandotte, remained in the
service of the country until their death,

 
 
5 een
*

 
 
Ae Re ce

+

 

A YOUNG HERO?!

Bees
Again to the very front are the brilliant and Savane niin tied

Frank Starr’s American Novels!

The next number—No. 116—out on Tuesday, April 29th, will excite every |

reader’s admiration,gand be a source of popular delight, for it is at once _
A Romance of Sea and Shore—
A Tale of Thrilling Act and Deed— |
» A Story of Love and Love's Heroism,

by an author whose own adventurous life well qualifies him to become si

narrator, viz:

THE BOY PILOT.

BY COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM.

 

at i
CETTE

It is a romance of the rough shores of Maine in the years 1811—14, wh
the war with Great Britain burst forth, and smugglers and privatee
fairly swarmed the seas.

The Boy Pilot--Old Mate Maddox—-the old Salt Bass—the smugglers an

 

freebooters—the lovely daughter of Col. Moncreitf—the beautiful capti

}| of the Smuggler’s Haunt—the Smuggler Chief, Marmaduke—all are

vigorously drawn.that the story is like a running fusilade of events
éxciting episodes. +

PRANK STARR’S‘AMERICAN NOVELS are always kept in print, and .
all back numbers can usually be supplied by news agents ; but where an
given number can not. be found on the news-stands, it will be sent to
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